Volume 4, Issue 7

I SCREWED UP: A ruined relationship, lying to parents and losing a wrestling match.

People who have made mistakes admit them on pages 10-24.

FILM FESTIVAL: Video production teacher Susan Johnson gave away 12 tickets to SIFF. Get all the hype on page 4.

PURPLE GLOVES: Dancing to the sounds of “Yeah x 3” by Chris Brown, a group of sophomores and juniors record a video for Relay for Life called “The Purple Glove Dance” on Wednesday, May 23. “When we first saw the dance we thought OMG! We can’t do this. It’s too advanced because it’s Thanh,” sophomore Jessica Lynch said, “but when we broke it down it was really easy.” Sophomore Thanh Nguyen choreographed the video to the upbeat tune, a song chosen from a roster of five. The group practiced twice from 2:30 - 4 p.m. and decided to record the short film right after the second practice. It took around ten shots to complete. “I noticed everyone really enjoyed it,” Lynch said.

THE BREAKDOWN: From top players to top scores, find all the latest sports information in our new scoreboard on page 8.

Andrea Buenbrazo photo

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My Dearest Arrowheads

THE WORD SCREW-UPS GALORE

Dear readers, I wish I didn’t call you readers because it’s obvious you’re reading.

It seems like the backspace key is out of order. But that is A-OK, because it’s just a minor screw-up. I still have both hands. I’m still breathing. I’m still going to finish this paragraph and begin a new one.

When I hear the phrase “screw-up,” I imagine a wooden birdhouse.

The word “screw” makes me feel like something was tightened or loosened, which could cause a plywood birdhouse to split in two.

(I’ve had both cases happen to me during art projects in middle school.)

But then I read the word “up.” It has this positive connotation to it. Maybe that word is supposed to make you feel better. Because after the “screw” of things I remember that things usually lighten up.

That’s the optimistic side of me.

Page 11 shows Joseph Varnadore’s “ Varnadore-way-of-looking-at things” on screw-ups.

Regret a screw-up or not. Learn from it or not. Pretend it never happened and hope it doesn’t end up on video.

Some adult figures in the building might not have their mistakes on YouTube. But some are featured on pages 12, 13 and 15. Do not gasp or gawk behind an open palm because everyone - even the teachers who taught you what you needed to know for your AP exams - makes mistakes.

Clubs also screw-up.

Various clubs’ officers reveal their clubs’ “doh” moments on page 18.

Some screw-ups may not have the magnitude of affecting a whole club but could lay on our conscience.

Four guest contributors share blogpost-esque, soap-opera “screw-ups” on pages 19-21. Accompanying their stories, Alex Kalinin drew cartoon illustrations to help fellow students’ and staffs’ imaginations along.

I am not licensed by the Department of Therapeutic Editorial Writing to help people change their behavior.

Whether people live a “YOLO” lifestyle or hide behind corners, there will be screw-ups.

But don’t dwell on them too long.

This last issue of the year may be the right distraction.

Every issue, the editor-inchief explains the magical and maniacal torture behind the ARROW scene. If it’s less than (or especially) magical for you, let her know at rhsarrow@gmail.com

Seven issues later and the ARROW 2011-2012 reporters are still the same goofballs.

We covered topics like bathrooms, names, dreams, school elections and plays, the Multicultural show, shoes and screw-ups. But I must bid them farewell.

Susan Johnson and Derek Smith photos

Queenelle Gazmen will make mom and dad proud one day; I promise......................................Editor-in-Chief Joseph Varnadore bro, I love you in a totally nonsexual way.......................................................Managing Editor Vanessa Abenojar will have her happily ever after..........................................................................Copy/Intro Editor Eli De Los Santos is irritated with Amazon.com...........................................................................................Photo Editor Farid Ahmach is still selling his iPad and Beat headphones.................................................................Art/Ads Editor Brittney Nguyen is dancing like there’s no tomorrow............................................................................Ads Manager Mindy Saeteurn admires Queenelle and Joseph for all the hard work they’ve done...................Cover Editor Katie Reynolds is going to vote for the President!..........................................................................Know More Editor Naje Bryant is going to miss all the seniors of this year......................................................................Play Hard Editor Ksenia Ivanova lost track of how many cough drops she ate in the past few days.................Portraits Editor Alyssa Antonio Goodbye ARROW after two and a half years! Take care and don’t screw-up!...Faces Editor Kevin Chung misses his one emo-scene who got away ¯\_(ツ)_/¯................................................NUM83R5 Editor Tristan Jay Cawagas is stuck at home healing his knee at paste-up week........................Perspectives Editor FINE PRINT ARROW is an open forum produced by curry-crazed, shoe-hiding, screwdriver jousting, whoopee cusion hiding, bottlecap blowing, glove snapping, whiteboard artists who plan out what days to wear their free journalism sweatshirts. They all go to Renton High School at 400 S. 2nd St., Renton, WA, 98057. The editor-in-chief is Queenelle Gazmen.

You can contact her at 206-5541692, no text messages, please.

ARROW is printed eight times a year

by Pacific Publishing Company in Seattle, Washington. Word processing, graphics and layouts are created on Microsoft Office 2007 and Adobe Creative Suite 3 programs.

ARROW has a press run of 2,000.

The staff welcomes letters to the editor and will publish letters which meet our standards of good taste (as space permits). Letters must be signed. ARROW reserves the right to edit letters, though every attempt

From late night pizza runs to ink-stained, early morning distribution days.

From running up the down escalators at Nationals to holding awkward poses with awards in our hands.

From getting married on a school field in the middle of a crisp autumn morning to throwing one of our associate’s shoes on the cabinets.

From throwing scraps of paper around the room to vacuuming them up like a Ghost Buster hours later.

From blasting ’90s hits on iPod speakers to mini car rumbles in the parking lot.

From hiding story idea packets in our jackets on our way to Luther’s Table to throwing our jackets in the corner of the room when it was hot.

I am blessed to have worked with such a talented, loud, good-looking staff who have been there for me physically, emotionally, mentally and (unfortunately) in my dreams.

There are times when I feel like I should’ve listened to you more, but watching you grow as somewhat disciplined and mature journalists, students and people willing to find the truth has made me proud.

I’m fortunate to have had something so influential to look up to during my last year in high school.

I hope to see the same type of chemistry when I randomly show up to see next year’s journalism crew.

Andrea Buenbrazo feels like being cliché so “Happiness is a journey, not a destination”...........Back Page Editor Amanda Dyer is a sad panda :( ...............................................................................................................................Know More Staff Dauvee Keith is a super awesome black guy with karate powers of the mind.......................................Play Hard Staff Rafael Agas still wants to go to Hogwarts.............................................................................................................Play Hard Staff Andrea Dyer got an athelete’s award in choir................................................................................................................Intro Staff Queneshia Lee is crying a river cause it’s the last issue......................................................................................Portraits Staff Marisol Mora bip bip bop I’m stuck in a mind box biiip!..........................................................................................Faces Staff Annie Kwan wants to marry bubble tea or a Vocaloid; that’ll be nice too................................................NUM83R5 Staff Alex Kalinin shoots frogs from a laser gun on top of a pink glittery unicorn in Las Vegas................NUM83R5 Staff Tony Nguyen found a place where personality blossoms every day....................................................Perspectives Staff Abigail Cetinois glad all the hard work and stressed nights are over for now.......................................Back Page Staff Derek Smith wants to end on a good note...........................................................................................................................Adviser Yusan Yin I-it-it’s not like I wanted to be helpful or anything, I just got stuck here. Stupid!...........Guest Grayscaler

will be made to preserve original content. Unsigned editorials and editorial cartoons represent the majority view of ARROW editorial board and do not represent the views of the Renton School District or RHS. Opinions, commentaries, satires, and perspectives are the views of the writers and artists, not the Renton School District or ARROW editorial board.

ARROW advertising ranging from $20-$80 finances its publications.

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TRUE OR FALSE:

Renton has had fewer fights than Hazen and Lindbergh High Schools this year, and since fall 2007, suspensions due to fighting have steadily decreased by 90 percent.

Answer: True.

Strange then, that Principal Damien Pattenaude’s full ride college scholarship to Washington State University could have been revoked after a series of fights he got in when he was a freshman.

How did the man who defended himself and his girlfriend by punching another turn into an effective advocate for non-violence, and turn RHS into the high school with the fewest fights in the district? | Queenelle Gazmen | Editor-in-Chief EARLY DREAMS From ’90 to ’95, Pattenaude walked RHS without his Renton School District ID badge hanging around his neck on a red lanyard. Instead, he carried a backpack.

“I was not violent in high school,” Pattenaude said, waving his hands down to make a point. “Some of my friends were making poor decisions when it came to drugs and gangs, but I stayed away.”

Pattenaude recalls an incident where he was almost on the 11 o’clock news.

“My junior year, after a football game, I went with some of my friends and their own friends to McDonald’s.

Some guys came from Rainier Beach. Things got out of hand and I got into the car with one of my friends and I told him to ‘get my butt home.’”

Pattenaude had two dream careers when he was a junior. He wanted to get into education or journalism and participated in Urban Workshop, a journalism program, and the teacher academy that was present. He applied for a scholarship from the Renton Black Parents’ Association, made it to the final interview round and received a full ride scholarship to Washington State University.

PATTENAUDE

FIRST FIGHT Imagine a cold, wintry night at WSU in ‘95.

Pattenaude, his girlfriend and a group of students walk to the dining hall for dinner. Students pour in and out of the hall, chattering about winter vacation and classes.

The group of students is almost at the hall steps when a snowball whizzes past Pattenaude’s ear and almost hits his girlfriend in the face.

A drunken freshman stumbles from a convenience store under the dining hall, accompanied by a friend. He calls Pattenaude “boy” and his girlfriend “bitch.” He spits racial slurs.

Pattenaude, wanting to get dinner, tells him to “be quiet” and continues up the steps, but the student continues taunting, calling him the “n word.”

“I could smell the alcohol on his breath,” Pattenaude said. “People aren’t going to disrespect me, and he was just being really rude and disrespectful.”

Pattenaude’s girlfriend at the time stepped between the two men, telling Pattenaude to “calm down.” Then the drunk called her “bitch” again. Punches broke lose. It took several of Pattenaude’s friends to pry them off each other.

That would be the first in four fights Pattenaude was in.

“Looking back on my freshman year, I think I was depressed,” he said, scratching the underside of his jaw. “I think I gained, like, 30 pounds.”

AGGRESSIVE STREAK Jan. 28, ’96: Dallas Cowboys play the Pittsburgh Steelers in the Super Bowl.

Pattenaude was in the lunch line fixing a sandwich when a girl at a nearby table called him racist terms. Next to the girl sat the perpetrator of Pattenaude’s winter brawl.

“I laughed at seeing him,” Pattenaude said. “I wouldn’t call it a mistake, but maybe I shouldn’t have done it.”

The bully got up, staring at Pattenaude as he approached. He called Pattenaude more racial terms. Both sides threw punches—the bully even punching Pattenaude’s girlfriend to the floor—and Pattenaude sustained a small scratch under his eye. Someone called the police.

Pattenaude watched the Super Bowl after the police interviewed him. Later in the year, two more fights occurred in the school gymnasium.

EVENTUAL REPERCUSSIONS After the second fight in the cafeteria, the school’s administrative board conducted a month-long investigation, interviewing all of Pattenaude’s friends and all of the racist-aggressor’s friends as well.

“Apparently, he told the police I started the fight and that I was making harassing phone calls,” Pattenaude said.

“I didn’t even know who he was.”

Pattenaude’s parents were called in. His mom was disappointed but understood.

“My mom always told me that if someone hits you, you hit back. But know the consequences. All I could think about was losing my chance to become an educator. I would have lost everything if I was expelled. I worried about it every day.”

The administrative board found Pattenaude less guilty than his aggressor. He was not expelled; the other kid was.

INFLUENTIAL ROLE “Well, I’m a principal now,” Pattenaude said. “If the same situation went on here at Renton, I would hear the students out. But with a diverse school like Renton, it would be a different situation.”

Renton was 40 percent white and 30 percent black at the time of Pattenaude’s enrollment. WSU was a “much different environment”—only one in 50 students were black or minority.

This is Pattenaude’s fourth year as principal. One of his first-year goals at Renton—a school still familiar to him, though different in many ways—was to reduce the number of fights.

“When I came in, I looked at some data. Some students were suspended twice in a month. I knew I had to change that.”

At the beginning of every year, Pattenaude reminds students of the school’s disciplinary policy, outlining various infractions and corresponding punishments.

“One thing I noticed working was reinforcing what the consequences are,” Pattenaude said.

He also takes part in more of the suspension process.

“Usually, Ms. San Martin and Mr. Ellis are in charge of the procedure, but I like to know what’s going on, and I sit through the meetings they have with students who get into fights.”

Seven Renton students have been suspended for fighting this year.

CLEAR EXPECTATIONS Language Arts teacher Dylan Okimoto has been teaching at RHS since fall of 2003. He has seen the statistics come true.

“Regarding violence, Pattenaude is very clear about what’s acceptable and not,” Okimoto said. “He pulls students aside after something violent happens and has a long conversation with them. He allows for one mistake but after that, he says ‘you’ll be gone for a month.’ His policy is ‘zero tolerance plus one.’”

Okimoto believes in Pattenaude’s policy himself.

“I’ve had to intervene in fights before,” Okimoto said. “But as our reputation as a whole, I think violence is something Pattenaude has controlled well. It’s clear that the school policy is working.”

HELPING HANDS “Security has a good sense of what’s going on between students, and they’ll tip us off,” Pattenaude said. “We try to bring students in to talk and tell them what consequences will happen [if they fight] before any drama starts.”

Pattenaude also gives credit to Leadership and ASB programs, Ignite, and “students’ outreach towards each other.”

“We have students greeting people at the door [to our school]. For quite some time, we never had that. Some students even come in and tell me that ‘some students from another school are going to start something.’”

Pattenaude hopes one day RHS can go an entire year without a fight but knows high schools across the U.S. have fights. The U.S. National Center for Education Statistics reports the percentage of students who get into physical fights to be around 31 percent, as of 2009.

The man who has helped bring the percentage of fighting down at Renton looks back at that moment in college when he let his beliefs waver.

“In a split second—literally the time it takes for a snowball to go past you—you could lose everything.”

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A FEW HOURS OF FILM MAKING FAME

Actor and director Matthew Lillard, also known for roles in “Scream,” “Scooby Doo” and most recently, “The Descendents,” screened his independent film “Fat Kid Rules the World” at the Renton IPAC on May18. His movie opened the 2012 Seattle International Film Festival in Renton. Based on a novel

by KL Going, and addressing themes such as obesity, music, drugs, suicide and family, the film adaption was popular among all audiences. Twelve students received free tickets from Video Production teacher and Yearbook Adviser Susan Johnson, allowing them to see the movie, meet the director and attend an after party at the Renton Pavilion Event Center.

SAMPLE SIZE: Blossom Vegetarian Restaurant hosts a booth during the after party, serving sesame seed balls and chrysanthemum jelly. The restaurant is one of the seven eateries in downtown Renton that served free food at the event. “It was the first film after party I went to,” sophomore Jimmy Ngo said. “The food was good and I thought it was pretty fancy.”

STARSTRUCK: Junior Nursalem Ibrahim meets actor and director Matthew Lillard outside the ticket booth.

Ibrahim left his spot in line to meet him. “It was pretty awesome because I was a big fan of his work growing up. I loved him in the first ‘Scream’,” Ibrahim said. “Ever since then, I’ve always wanted to be the killer in the next generation of ‘Scream’ movies.”

ITINERARY CHECK: Freshman Rachaelle Sampayan and junior Nursalem Ibrahim look at more movies that will be shown at the IPAC from May 19-24. Tickets for youth were $9 per movie, so Ibrahim and Sampayan had to pick what movies they would like to see based on a budget. “I only went to this one because I really wanted extra credit, but it was worth it,” Sampayan said.

RED CARPET: Lindbergh High School students pose on the red carpet for a hired photographer. Though most of the movie was shot in Seattle, scenes taking place in a school setting took place at Lindbergh, Lillard’s choice of location due to the lighting on the staircases and pool.

“I liked how some of the students were so interested to play extras,” Lillard said.

FANGIRL MOMENTS: Freshman Samone Thomas and sophomore Emma Colliner munch on free meatballs at the after party while Colliner talks about Matthew Lillard. Both girls were able to get an autograph from Lillard on their SIFF brochure after the movie screening. “I was there till 11:30 [p.m.], but I think it lasted longer,” Thomas said.

“I’ve been a big fan of his.”

PARTNERSHIP: Johnson and Ngo look for other RHS students who will attend the show. “I am so grateful to SIFF and particularly Dustin Kasper, the educational coordinator for SIFF, for the opportunities our students have experienced because of the partnership between SIFF and the City of Renton,” Johnson said.

ITINERARY CHECK (PT 2): While waiting for the movie to begin, Ibrahim and Sampayan continue looking at their brochure. Movies shown were from the U.S., Spain, Russia and New Zealand. “I’ve never been to a film event before,” Sampayan said. “I flipped out when I learned that the guy who plays ‘Shaggy’ from ‘Scooby Doo’, directed it.”

JAM SESSION: A local band of six members provide entertainment at the Pavilion Center. The music consisted of jazz, reggae, R&B and soul, using drums, a keyboard, guitar and later in the evening, a ukulele. “It made it more lively,” Ibrahim said. “I liked their song selections and it kept the place upbeat.”

Queenelle Gazmen photos

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Forever in a Day Two students honor the memory of our veterans, just in time for Memorial Day

THE BEAT THE BEGINING OF A NEW ERA

David Cerio photo

|Katie Reynolds |Know More Editor Seniors Johnathon Sundara and Casey Dunn have made a Vietnam veteran’s wish come true. Alan Gonzales, who graduated from Renton and now mows lawns for the district, requested that woodshop teacher David Cerio create a memorial of a soldier praying over a grave.

When Cerio suggested Gonzales talk to his class and ask for help, Sundara and Dunn quickly volunteered. After weeks of cutting, sanding and painting after school, Sundara and Dunn finished the memorial on May 24.

“A lot of heart went into it. I think this is one of those things I will never forget,” Sundara said. “I kind of wanted to keep it, but I looked at it and I thought of the bigger picture. Why keep it for myself? There are other people who can relate to what I’ve I made.”

Sundara knows first-hand some of the good our armed forces have provided for us. His grandfather received a Purple Heart after being killed in war.

“This is to appreciate those people who served our country, who

gave us so much already,” Sundara added.

Cerio is proud of what his students have accomplished. He feels a need to have his students understand the values of life, leadership and family, and that includes understanding the sacrifices made by those who have fought for our country. Cerio wears a family heirloom wedding ring in remembrance of his grandfather, who fought in Vietnam.

“It was a very emotional day,” Cerio said of the memorial’s installation.

To create the memorial, Sundara conversed with Gonzales about his experiences and about what the memorial might mean. He found out that Gonzales lost two friends in the war.

“It was hard to hear what he had been through,” Sundara said. “[Gonzales] was really thankful that the youth actually understand [what he’s done]. All I did was put a face on it for Mr. Cerio’s class and my school.”

A stainless steel plaque accompanies the memorial, which will rest permanently at the side of the road next to the Veterans of Foreign Wars building in Downtown Renton.

News Bites: COMMENCEMENT SPEAKERS Congratulations to Aleta Konkol and Jeffrey Wiser for being selected by the 2012 Senior class to be readers during the Commencement Ceremony on June 12.

GO FOR GOLD Mathematics and science teacher Jim Gold has been named a 2012 Inspirational Teacher by the University of Washington Computer Science & Engineering Department. He was nominated by his former student, Rakib Mirza. Gold was honored at a banquet celebration at the UW campus.

STATE SENIORS Maninder Grewal, Tyler Yorita and Millais Tsang have been named as the state’s top graduating seniors through the Washington Scholars program, which honors the achievements of some of the state’s most exemplary high school students.

MOS EXAMS Exams for the MOS (Microsoft Office Specialist) are standard in industry. The PowerPoint portion of the MOS was passed by the following students, recognized by Microsoft as MOS PowerPoint certified; Alex Chen, Cynthia Melissa Mora, NhiChung Huynh and Vivian Lai.

MOVING UP SEND OFF Teachers Jennifer O’Roarty, James Andrews and Joe Bento have been chosen by vote of students to deliver speeches to the departing seniors during the Moving up Assembly on June 8.

CLEAR FOR SUMMER For boys interested in tennis next year, the season will begin in the fall. First day to clear is Aug 15 from 10-2 p.m. Other fall sports clearences will be May 29 - June 1.

| Rafael Agas | Play Hard Staff The Academic Decathlon is rolling in Renton. Language Arts teacher Christian Cerone is starting the first Renton team with his head held high. Cerone lights up every time he talks about it.

“For the first year or two, I’m just looking for it to catch on as a worthwhile activity,” Cerone said.

“I’m striving for the Rookie of the Year award,” Cerone said. The Rookie of the Year award is given to a new participating school.

“I’m shooting for the top three in Division II in the nationals,” Cerone said. “That would make Renton in the top fifteen out of the thirty-three schools in the nation.”

Cerone also doesn’t want the team to be just an extension of school work.

He wants them to bond and create a family. “[They] need to maintain a level of commitment,” Cerone said, “I want them to enjoy their time and not just work.”

Being in the team does mean work.

Students who want to participate will explore subjects like Literature and History as well as Oral Speech.

Sophomore Jordan Doan is up for it.

“I thought it sounded interesting,” Doan said. “It [might be] an educational challenge.”

Cerone is asking a lot for a team that is new to this experience, but he is willing to sacrifice as much as his students are. “[I’ll] spend as much as I can after school,” Cerone said. “[I’ll] support them anyway I can and drum up the enthusiasm.”

Coaching an inexperienced team will be hard, but Cerone has a plan. “[I would want] to get other teachers involved,” Cerone said, “especially in areas I’m not strong in, like Math.”

The team took a preliminary test on May 7 for Cerone to measure their abilities. The final roster is still undecided, though the results will be posted soon.

“Probably by the end of the first week of June,” Cerone said with a smile.

Every month, The Beat explores the latest news going around the school.

Everything from dress-code offenses to school-wide events. Breathe deep.

Clarification on school news has arrived.

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A New Song

Band teacher David Rolandson and Orchestra teacher Nancy Dosch – half of the Fine and Performing Arts Department – depart this spring. Over the years, Rolandson and Dosch have encouraged saxophone honkers, bass pickers and violin pluckers all, eliciting not just Mozart and Suza, but swinging jazz, fiddly folk and dramatic scores to popular movies

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Tuttin’ Tuba

Dosch has been teaching orchestra at Renton for 16 years. She will be retiring from orchestra and will follow her new calling to preach.

She won’t be very far away.

“Maybe I’ll be across the street at Luther’s table doing bible study,” Dosch said.

Dosch still remembers when she first got to the school where there were only five students in the orchestra class and a lot of room for improvement.

“The string bass was tied together with a rope,” Dosch said. “That was the first thing I needed to take care of.”

She helped the group blossom. Now Dosch has enough students to create a full zero period Orchestra class along with her regular first period orchestra - about 50 in all.

Dosch also travels down to Dimmitt Middle school after first period to conduct the sixth, seventh, and eighth grade orchestra classes.

The lighthearted, laugh-inducing, straightforward woman almost feels like a mother to her students. She works closely with many of her players.

Dosch has a pretty good sense of the string instruments students play in her orchestra; she’s been playing the violin since 6th grade.

“I’m a violinist. I play viola and some of the other instruments, but I’m not an advanced cellist or anything. I’m mostly violin,” Dosch said, recalling her years of learning.

But those weren’t all years of joy. “I hated it to be honest,” Dosch said. “I was a pianist and we just happened to have a violin lying around the house and my mom said ‘they are starting a string program and you’re gonna play violin,’ so I played violin but I never really liked it and I wanted to quit.”

Somehow she was able to make it through middle school and when high school came around she believes she was presented more of a challenge that gave her more enjoyment.

Now she is closer to her violin than she ever imagined.

Rolandson has been teaching at Renton for four years. He will be going on educational leave for the University of Minnesota to receive his doctorate.

While he plans to return to Renton in two years to resume teaching, he knows he’ll miss his students.

Since Rolandson has been here he has created a zero period jazz band (a recommendation he took from his students), and has taught regular sixth period band, a class containing 46 students.

Rolandson starts off his days in the Jazz band room on the second floor for zero period and then drives down to Dimmit to teach the sixth, seventh, and eighth grade band classes. Then during lunch he travels back, just in time for sixth period.

He recalls the day he applied to teach at Renton.

“It was the biggest interview team I ever had in front of me,” Rolandson said.

Rolandson may have received the job but things were not easy as pie when he walked into the room.

“A lot of the kids who were here were really attached to Mr. Baugh,” Rolandson said. “Whenever you’re the new guy who replaces some one who’s been around for a long time, there’s always a bit of resistance.”

There was also a bit of disorganization among the students as well.

“The most disruptive thing that sticks out in my memory was my first Homecoming four years ago,” Rolandson said. “We were just trying to do the Homecoming rehearsal, and a couple ex-Renton High students almost got into a fight during the rehearsal.”

Rolandson hopes the cycle will not repeat when the new director comes, but he knows he doesn’t have much power when it comes to how students will feel.

“Some people will like the new person way better and wish I never came back. Some people may hate the new person and wish I came back,” Rolandson said. “You never know.”

DOSCH

ROLANDSON

Amanda Dyer article and photos

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SWING BATTA BATTA

In the final playoff game against Kingston, the baseball team loses 12-2

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2

9

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8

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1. Coach Chris Dubois plans the next inning with the players.

He had several changes in lineup this year. “We had a couple of arm injuries to pitchers and some eligibility issues,” Dubois said.

2. Pitcher Oliver Billon pitches his last game.

Billon has been a Seattle Mariners fan for most of his life. “I grew up watching Felix, so I wanted to be a pitcher,” Billon said.

3. Senior Kevin Penaloza catches for his last game before graduation. “I’ve been playing since I was little,” Penaloza said.

His experience allows others to embrace his skill and passion for baseball.

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7 4. Senior Michael Weaver safely slides into second base after the pitcher attempts to get him out. Weaver inched too far from the base in preparing to run to the next.

“I was trying to intimidate the catcher,” Weaver said.

5. The team leaves the field after a 12 to 2 loss in the playoff game against Kingston.

“The kids competed and played hard,” Dubois said. The team made the playoffs for the second year in a row.

6. Coach Dubois will be losing some of his most important players, like pitcher Oliver Billon. “There’s only four seniors,” Dubois said, “but they’re really important to our team: all starters for the past three or four years.”

Katie Reynolds Photos

7. Senior Michael Weaver runs to first after hitting a ball into the outfield. Weaver wants to be a Seattle Mariner one day. “I’ve been a fan my whole life,” Weaver said.

8. The baseball team didn’t make the playoffs for eight years in a row before last year. They’ve recently turned that around. “They got better as the year went on,” Dubois said.

9. Determined to do his best, senior PJ Mattingly plays with an injured ankle.

Mattingly’s was one of several injuries this season. “I was stupid playing basketball the day of,” Mattingly said.

knowmoreplayhardintro Welcome to the Breakdown: the full scoop on three of the games for every spring sport, including who won, when it went down, top performers and post game wrap-ups. We’ve got all the on-field and on-court action at your fingertips.

FAST PITCH

Opponent

Evergreen High School

Hazen High School

Foster High School

When

April 4

May 7

May 2

Points

12-14

12-11

8-7

Top players

Abrianna Cordray

Chejay Roxas

Sabrina Bigelow

Description

“I practiced so hard before that game, so when it came down to it, I pitched well the entire time.”

“I bring fun to the team and put smiles on everyone’s faces.”

“I was the only pitcher there and my arm hurt.

But I knew I had to keep going and working hard.”

Opponent

Highline, Tyee. Kennedy High School

Kennedy High School

Tyee High School

When

All Matches

April 20

March 21

Points

Undefeated

6-0 and 7-5

6-0 and 6-0

Top players

Alexis Miles

Ak Sterling

Benny Souriyadeth

Description

“ I felt accomplished. It was very unexpected.”

“I did better than the past years. It took time to fix things and get better.”

“I felt pretty good. It was best wining-wise, but it wasn’t my best experience.”

Opponent

Foster High School

Lindbergh High School

When

May 3

April 17

March 20

Points

1-0

0-0

1-0

Top players

Brian Diaz

Uriel Gonzalez

Kapkyi Lwai

Description

“We beat a 4A teem which was a big accomplishment. I went into that game knowing I wouldn’t give up.”

“I go in and do what I have to do in order to get the job done.”

“I bring energy and creativity to the team.

At times it can become fustrating.”

TENNIS

SOCCER

TRACK & FIELD

MILES

Lindbergh High School

Opponent

Seamount League day 1

Seamount League day 2

Renton All City

When

May 18

May 19

May 4

Place

Third place in the 400

Second place in the 800

Second in Javelin

Top players

Savannah Smith

Adriel Paine

Hannah Franceschina

Description

“I [was behind] the girl in first place the entire time. I accomplished something major.”

“The only thing going through my head was that I have one more chance to break the school record.”

“I was happy because I was one place away from going to state.”

BASEBALL

BIGELOW

Opponent

Tyee High School

Tyee High School

Evergreen High School

When

April 18

March 23

April 4

Points

6-8

4-1

6-7

Top players

Jordan Rosas

Donovan Saario

Oliver Billion

Description

“This game set the way for all the other games.”

“I bring energy and focus to the team. As a leader, that’s my job.”

“I bring depth in the roster, and I remind people what to do.”

DIAZ

SMITH

SAARIO

arrow8910

THE INJURIES OF PEOPLE YOU KNOW Torn Labrum Popped Shoulder

Torn Labrum

Junior Devante Lucas

LUCAS

Junior THE SIDELINES Tala Hild SPORTS SCHOLARSHIPS

Dec. of 2010 was not a good month for Junior Tala Hild. While participating in one of her favorite sports, gymnastics, she tore her labrum.

“I missed summer and high school swim as well as gymnastics,” Hild said.

The incident happened as Hild went for a back tuck. When she hit the back tuck, her shoulder popped.

“To be honest, I had no clue it was that bad,” Hild said. “I remember Coach Elaine helped me.”

Unfortunately, Hild had to have surgery and go to weekly physical therapy.

That was just the beginning of what was to come.

“During track practice my shoulder popped again,” Hild said.

Now Hild is taking track by storm as she competes in high, long and triple jump.

Despite the sports potential risks, young males still decide to put all that they have on the wrestling mat.

For Lucas, giving all he had cost him a trip to the

HILD

emergency room.

“I tore the labrum in my right shoulder,” Lucas said.

He went to the gym, slipped on his outfit and headed to the mat.

“I had got slammed and [the] next thing I knew I jumped up yelling,” Lucas said.

The incident came as a total shock.

“I was like, damn, I messed up my shoulder,” Lucas said.

This did not stop Lucas.

“To anyone in pain: listen to your body,” Lucas said.

His girlfriend feels his pain.

“I feel like I’m no help and can’t take the pain away,” sophomore Abrianna Cordray said.

Broken Ankle Torn Tendons

Broken Forearm

Sophomore Shykiel Milford Imitating your idol can lead to bad things.

For Milford, this was the case as he tried to be NBA player LeBron James.

“I was dunking that day and was on a role,” Milford said.

Three dunks in a row.

“I went to dunk again, but somehow my body repositioned itself,” Milford said.

“I hit the floor and got up dizzy. I had no clue my arm was broken until I was informed.”

Junior Lavelle Smith was the one to deliver the news to Milford’s mother.

“I remember calling her and telling her what happened but she thought I was just playing around,” Smith said.

Milford could not deal with the fact that his arm was broken.

“To this day I’m still reminded by my scar,” Milford said.

Freshman Moshea Cox

MILFORD

“I wanted to warm up and practice my jump shot,” freshman Moshea Cox said.

That day was not going too well for Cox. Just prior to arriving at the community center, he jammed his pinky finger.

After shooting around for some time he headed to our school gym.

“I broke my right ankle bone and tore the tendons in my right foot,” Cox said.

His reaction was as if it had happened to him before, but Cox knew the injury was a lot worse than what he thought.

“At that point I knew I had to be ready to play with ankle braces and cautious not to hurt my ankle again,” Cox said.

Despite the torn tendons and broken ankle, he still managed to do what he loves, which is playing basketball.

COX

Farid Ahmach graphic

|Brittney Nguyen |Ads Magager Running back and cornerback Anthony Gold and Bubi Dumas received football scholarships to college.

Money can be hard to find to pay for college education. Gold received a $1000 football scholarship.

“I feel good,” Gold said. “It shows that my hard work [has] paid off.”

Dumas’ scholarship will pay for his college tuition differently. “[It’s for] 50 percent of freshman year and full sophomore year,” Dumas said. “It’s an honor because I’ll be the first in my family to go.”

Dumas puts his heart into his training, and he’s glad it has paid off.

“Basically, I feel like it was a blessing,” Dumas said. “Out of everyone on the team I thought I’d be the last one to get one. But I guess you can say hard work pays off. Football is what I do.”

Dumas has been playing football since ‘99, with influence from his family.

“My uncle was my [first] football coach. He looked at my size and said ‘Oh yeah, he’s got to play.’”

Gold also received a scholarship; his award is to Colorado Mesa University.

“I expect to play college football, to work hard, be a team player and leader, to gain more experience on the field and hopefully pursue my dream of playing in the [National Football League],” Gold said.

Gold has been playing for ten years.

“Football was all I had growing up,” Gold said.

For both seniors, going to college is a big step.

“I understand that home sickness will come,” Dumas said, “but hey, duty calls.”

Gold hopes it will be a learning experience.

“It’s going to be a tough transition,” Gold said. “It will test who I am as a person.”

Dumas and Gold have big plans for their academic studies.

“At the moment I’m stuck between architecture and business,” Dumas said. “Maybe I’ll do both and start my own architecture business.”

Gold also plans to study business.

They look forward to being on the field in college.

Every month, The Sidelines provides a first-hand account of a sporting event or activity with the sweaty, sticky details in tact. Relive the experience with the greatest glory, and maybe a few laughs.

We S C R E W E D ARROW 91011

the

friends.

through

my

body.

ideas hanging on like plasma, to make its way into the heart as it

with

WE LIED TO OUR PARENTS

AFALAVA

Portraitsfacesnum83r5

can

“When I first got my license my mom told me not to drive my friends around. I told her ‘okay’ but I lied to her.”

- junior Zack Walther

You

Rather, I to talk

JOHNSON

“I told my mom I didn’t have bus fare.

She gave me a dollar fifty and I went to buy some hot Cheetos instead. I was craving them!”

-freshman Afrique Johnson

“I was supposed to go to the temple, but I ended up going to play basketball and not doing my homework.”

-freshman Vu Nguyen

“I lied about going home; so my mom would stop asking me because it’s annoying.

I just felt like not explaining myself.”

-freshman Sareena Eang

NGUYEN

EANG

KRONG

“I lied about my grades. I told them the grades didn’t get sent out yet, and that I didn’t know my Skyward password.”

-freshman Pyboon Krong

“I cursed my teacher out. The teacher called my mom and I said the teacher was the one who cursed me out.”

-sophomore Terry Merlette

“I lied to my parents about getting suspended.

I thought maybe I could pretend to go to school. One day my mom saw me and started yelling.”

-sophomore Jaqueline Afalava

MERLETTE

SOURIYADETH

SADANG

“I was playing with a sticky hand and hit my mom’s flowers and hid them in the soil. When my mom found out I said the flowers had died.”

-sophomore Benny Souriyadeth

“I lied to my mom about not having a boyfriend even though I had one.”

-sophomore Jhomarie Sadang

WALTHER

IBRAHIM

BAPTISTE

BUFANDA

“I lied to my parents to cover up someone else’s mistake for someone else’s mistake” -junior Nursalam Ibrahim

“I told my mom I was going to my best friend’s house, but i went to a kickback and she called me and I told her ‘My friend can’t talk righ now.’”junior Alea Baptiste

“I used the floor lamp as a microphone and broke it. My mom came home and acted like nothing happened.”-junior Katia Bufanda

scratch

had to

ALMEJO

“I crashed my car and I called my parents and told them someone had reversed into me and left. The cops were already at my house when I got home.”

-senior Rufino Almejo

MCRAE

“I told my mom my teacher had a personal dislike for me. I’d say he’d ‘forget’ to give me homework or he’d purposely give me low scores when I was doing the work.”

-senior Adama Mcrae

MORRIS-PARR

I told my mom I would stay in the yard and play but I left with my friend.

I came back at [around] eight p.m. and my parents had the cops looking for me.”

-senior Brianne Morris Parr

RODRIQUEZ

“I snuck out because my friends threw me a surprise birthday party.

When we came home at 7 a.m., my mom was waiting for me at the door.” -senior Perla Rodriguez

MCCRAY

“I kept my relationship with my boyfriend (husband now) away from my parents. Even when I was engaged I kept it from them.”

-Technology Resource Specialist Margo McCray

“Taking the car and going down to Florida, which was a 12 hour drive, without telling my parents until I got back.”

-Science teacher Erick Dejulio

DEJULIO

ROBIRDS

“I used to tell my parents that I ate food that I didn’t really like, but I actually spat it into my napkin.”

- Language Arts Teacher Breanne Robirds

MCEOWEN

“I lied about running out to the woods at night. I don’t regret it. The only thing i got out of it was almost poking my eye out.”

-Online Learning Teacher Kate McEowen

I

FACES PAGE 16 Hush, please. Don’t tell anyone, but these students lied to their parents.

Read about how bad it got. Find out how these people tried to keep their secrets and how some got caught red-handed.

what

I

was

going

is to

as do

it,

valuable I

73%

insincere/sarcastic

would accept their own

27% of students wouldn’t accept their own

Students’ thoughts on their own apologies

40% “other” emotions

20% relieved

20%

6% ashamed

14% sad

Students’ strongest emotions after they apologize

SCREWING UP

Kevin Chung graphic

The graph below depicts the students’ perspectives of their screw-ups, and how their apologies are received

facesnum83r5moments

The Meaning offers an interpretation of the numbers you see to your left. The percentages you see are based off of surveys distributed to over 200 students during the week of May 14-18 and have been mathematically calculated. Our margin of error is 5.2 percent.

| Annie Kwan & Queenelle Gazmen | NUM83R5 staff & editor-in-cheif Apologizing requires people to do the one thing they hate the most: admitting they are wrong.

About 73% of students would accept their own apologies, maybe because they phrase their apologies in forgiving ways. In text messages, e-mails, phone calls or notes folded in origami shapes, people know that it’s hard to be on the receiving end of a broken relationship. They know when they need to give an apology so - perhaps aware of their karma people word their apologies as if they are accepting them theirselves.

Twenty-seven percent of our truthful students admitted they wouldn’t accept their own apologies.

Maybe it’s a simple “I’m sorry” with their head down, hands in their pockets, rocking on their heels and mumbling under their breath.

Maybe it’s a simple text message where “sorry” is spelled with one “r.”

But these people admit that their apologies aren’t presented or said in ways they themselves would want hear.

Although usually the one receiving the apology feels the most hurt, fourteen percent of students feel sad while apologizing. They might feel sad because they know they hurt someone else. Feeling happy isn’t acceptable because apologizing with a smile on your face isn’t natural, and comes off as fake.

Though not shown on the graph, survey respondents were asked about the last time they apologized.

A large majority apologized in May 2012, but there were also many who last apologized sometime in 2011 or even as late 2009, which is strange.

Maybe they did nothing wrong to hurt anyone? Maybe they’re antisocial and have nobody to hurt?

Maybe we just need to apologize more often. Then the number of us feeling relieved after apologizing can go up. But we shouldn’t put too much thought into the act itself. We should focus instead on repairing the relationship we broke with a stupid screw-up.

MY BAD, I DIDN’T MEAN IT

THE MEANING

NUMBERS PAGE 18 You’re definitely not alone. Numbers never lie, just look at our screwed-up graph representing how screwing up often requires owning up. But are the culprits forgiven? Are they ever?

|Andrea Buenbrazo |Back Page Editor I was walking home from the bus when I found out my best friend liked the same guy I did.

We were just talking about random junk that happened at school, like any other day, when we trampled on the subject of boys.

“So, do you like anyone?” I asked.

“Hmm… I like…” she paused before her lips formed a familiar two syllables.

“Nolan.”

You would think at this moment I’d feel my heart falling like an anvil to my stomach.

You’d expect me to throw a fit, protest and kick and scream and argue. You would expect this to be the moment where our friendship would break, the moment I got mad and swelled with jealousy and banished my best friend from my side.

Did I say I’m in third grade?

“Oh, I like him too,” I replied, giggling.

“Oh,” she said, “and I kind of like Alex and the other Alex…”

“What about Dylan? I kinda like him.”

“Oooh, him too.”

Our young minds didn’t know how to distinguish the lines of “liking” someone and thinking they were “cute.” But that’s okay because, hey, we were nine.

Nolan was a white boy. He looked boyish, but somehow still older than the other guys. He had short blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and long eyelashes. Instead of being ghostly pale, he had a healthy sun kissed glow and wore these swishy pants that made whooshing sounds whenever he passed by. (I loved that sound.)

He ran the fastest and was good at playing basketball and tether ball.

What more could a girl ask for?

I started liking him when another guy made fun of one of my drawings and Nolan told him making fun of me wasn’t cool and to cut it out. From then on, my eyes followed him.

I was glad my friend and I found out about our mutual like for Nolan. We were partners in crime. In a way, we shared him.

Two little girls in like with a boy. And what do little girls do when they like a boy? They call him all sorts of names and stick out their tongues at him.

And they chase after him to their hearts content.

During recess, Stacey and I would team up. We chased him around the black top, weaved through the tether ball poles, and cornered him at the slides. (Our plan didn’t work because he’d just slide down and run speedily away.) We couldn’t care less; chasing him was fun.

I remember during Cinco de Mayo, the teachers were telling us a story outside in the courtyard, and Nolan plopped down next to me and gave my nine year old self a wild case of butterflies. I thought about confessing.

I didn’t.

I decided I should write a confession letter instead.

I sat at my home desk for a couple of hours and wrote. I wrote and wrote. I wrote him a letter. I drew him a picture. I told him a bunch of unnecessary details, thinking maybe somehow, he’d care a tiny bit. It’s pretty creepy now that I think back at it, but my third grade self believed it

going

blood

to

to

was a pretty awesome confession letter. I remembered telling him that my birthday was coming up.

Would he tell me he liked me too on my birthday?

I was super excited when I finished. I was sure it would impress him. I decided I’d put it in his desk the next day.

I didn’t. In all my excitement to give it to him, I forgot it. Perhaps it fell underneath my desk, or maybe I lost it under a bunch of papers. In any case, my birthday had already passed when I saw it next. I stuffed it into my backpack so that I could give it to him anyway.

I was so jittery and jumpy when I got to school. I went straight to class, making sure I got there early before Nolan. I stuck the letters into his desk and did a doubletake, checking no one saw me. Then I walked back to my desk slyly, feeling invincible. I talked to my friends like usual and glanced over at his desk.

He finally sat down and saw the letter.

Read it read it read it read it. I was trying to send him signals through my mind. (I seriously thought I had that power.) He looked slightly puzzled when he picked up the letter.

I expected his eyes to bug out when he saw the first line: “Dear Nolan, I like you.”

But his face remained unchanged. I was a little disappointed, but hey, I’m sure he’ll love the rest of the letters.

He looked…bored.

He read a little more of the paper, flipped through the other ones and stuck all of them back into his desk. I guess he’d gotten confession letters from other girls before.

I was somewhat sad afterwards but I didn’t let that get me down too much. I was cheerful again by the time I got to recess.

Stacey and I sat at the outside tables and talked, making each other laugh until Nolan walked over.

“Hey Stacey, when’s your birthday?”

She was pretty distracted. “Uh, June 1.

No wai—” “So YOU wrote this letter,” he said, pointing out the dreaded ugly letter. “It says ‘My birthday’s coming up soon.’”

I forgot I had even mentioned my birthday. I tried to keep quiet because I didn’t want to tell him myself. I didn’t want him to know I wrote that sappy letter.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, confused. “And my birthday’s actually on Jul—”’ “You wrote it,” he mocked.

“No, I didn’t!” she said.

“You wrote it, you wrote it,” he chanted.

That was when Stacey started crying.

The boy I had admired somehow didn’t seem that appealing anymore.

I got up and ripped the letter from his hand.

“I WROTE IT, OKAY?” I yelled into his face. “My birthday passed and I forgot to give it to you. She didn’t write it, I did.”

He was looking over at her, amused at her tears, when I glared at him my meanest glare until he walked away. After that day we stopped chasing Nolan around the blacktop.

in art lin x Ka Ale

I WROTE THE NOTE! OKAY?

an

I

email,

have

I

MARISOL MORA: My biggest mistake is over procrastinating on my ARROW work because, except for Faces, I never turned in any ARROW work. I felt like I was letting people think I didn’t care or I was just a lazy person.

QUEENELLE GAZMEN: Since Issue 3, I have been forgetting to check a specific step in the exporting process. This made all the images pixelized. I didn’t checked the pdf files to see that mistake. I let that mistake go on too long.

ANNIE KWAN: For the 98118 issue, Eli and I both wrote about Wabi sushi and we had to squish them together at the end.

Neither of us wrote about Tutta Bella, an Italian restaurant that was also good [“The Rainier Beach Feast,” Issue 4].

ALYSSA ANTONIO: The mug shot of Mr. Winmill on Play Hard [“Teacher, Coach, Father,” Issue 2] is so dark. He looks kind of creepy.

The Biology book on Play Hard [“Teacher, Coach, Father,” Issue 2] should’ve fully been on the page instead of being cut off.

QUENESHIA LEE: In my article [“Spoken in Solitary,” Issue 1] I didn’t put words in Ranaizah’s bubble. Instead, I left it blank like Roedah’s so it looked exactly like the picture below it.

VYVY NGUYEN: On my page [“Faces,” Issue 2] I should have paid more attention to people’s body parts and not cut out their hands. At first I didn’t think it’d KSENIA IVANOVA: In my Portraits be that big of a deal until I saw the printed article [“Deep Meditating,” Issue 1], I should version of it. I slaughtered my fellow have interviewed people who haven’t been in students’ body parts because I thought it ARROW as the outside sources. wasn’t noticeable.

In Abigail Cetino’s Portraits article [“All the Names of My Future Children,” Issue 2], KATIE REYNOLDS: I never took the I should have made the art ahead of time to initiative in finding out the name of the girl fit together better and add a background.

I wrote about [“Volleyball,” Issue 1].

For the Our Town photo essay [“Our BRITTNEY NGUYEN: The cover for Town, Our Play,” Issue 3] the photo credit [Issue 1] was completely messed up. You lists only Matthew Milton, when some of could see a box on Hamilton and Anthony the pictures were taken by Abigail Cetino and it made their skin color completely as well. different. I should’ve doubled-checked it FARID AHMACH: I made the ad before sending it off.

Also, the Photoshop was really bad, and for the PTSA [Issue 3, page 4] for the wrong phone number. I had to make a we cut off Anthony’s finger. new version of it because it had the cell It’s obvious the senior girl in the right and house number for an ARROW staff hand corner had her fist cut out because it member’s mother. didn’t blend in with the background.

AMANDA DYER: I wish I had known more about photography while working on the 98118 Special Edition so I could take a better picture of the lion on the back page.

It is too dark, and because I used flash it seems a bit light in the bottom left corner.

On that same page I also regret not saying what restaurant it was that the lion statues were standing in front of.

Anger: It happens to the best of us. We’re human, so mistakes are inevitable. This being the year’s last issue of ARROW, we’d like to take time to point out blunders and apologize.

Slip-ups aren’t anything to be ashamed of, and sometimes it helps to make a list.

Remember our Literary Magazine CD? It only had six songs on it when it was supposed to have 10 or 12. Who pays $500 to get a mini CD made?

We do. (Managing Editor Joseph Varnadore, specifically.)

perspectivesBlunders

going

excuse.

ALEX KALININ: I drew the pictures too late for our shoes issue. I was playing around, and I didn’t get my work done.

ELI DE LOS SANTOS: Being the photo editor I should have made sure that every single picture on every single page in every single issue had been gray scaled, cropped and placed right. I am ashamed of calling myself or being referred to as the “photo editor” because I didn’t do my job right this year. I feel like I slacked too much and didn’t dedicate enough time to my position.

KEVIN CHUNG: I noticed that on the NUM83R5 page [Issue 2] I screwed up big-time with the faces on the totem poles not being straight. Also, the text boxes and layout were novice at best.

On the NUM83R5 page [Issue 3], we screwed up by having the icons on a low resolution. We also showed two sets of data twice.

MINDY SAETEURN: I screwed up on the literary magazine layout [Issue 5, page 11] because I couldn’t get that owl off the page and it really annoyed me. It didn’t really fit the whole page and I didn’t like it there. No matter where I put the owl on the page it looked like the car ran it over or was going to hit it.

ANDREA BUENBRAZO: Jordan Bowens is NOT Japanese. I didn’t check over what was being edited in my article for the bathrooms [“Four Countries. Four Restrooms,” Issue 1].

I didn’t get a lot of pictures on Steve Sholdra [“Swims for Us, Studies at Home,” Issue 3]. Now he’s all chopped up weirdly in his article.

ARROW2324

DAUVEE KEITH: It wasn’t Calvin on the cover [Issue 1] It was Hudson.

RAFAEL AGAS: I gave the camera to someone not in ARROW. Not the camera itself but the bag with the lens in it. We’re not supposed to give equipment to people outside of ARROW.

TONY NGUYEN: The date was wrong when I talked about the fire [“Buddhist Boy, Catholic Girl Visit Enormous Vietnamese Temple,” Issue 5]. It was supposed to be around six or seven years ago because it happened when I was in the third grade.

VANESSA ABENOJAR: I am a bad journalist because I used three students from the ARROW staff to finish my layout [“The Nguyen Project,” Issue 2], which is against the law. I also matched a name wrong to the pictures. That was so bad. Also, I didn’t check in with the people I interviewed. Two of the Nguyens said what I put in there was too personal.

ABIGAIL CETINO: I felt like such a noob with the pictures I took [“Know More,” Issue 3]. I didn’t know much about photography so my pictures were boring.

On top of that, they were blurry! It was supposed to be a photo essay, but since I failed, that couldn’t happen.

TRISTAN CAWAGAS: Kevin Chung’s mug shot [“My dirty, grimy and distressed leather SB Janoski’s are ready to rock-nroll,” Issue 6] had gray in it and I forgot to clean it up.

I didn’t crop Naje Bryant [“Heel Hatin’,” Issue 6] from the chest to the head, making her look as if she was standing far from the picture.

BLUNDERS PAGE 24 Normally we don’t admit our mistakes, but this issue is special. Read about all the mistakes we’ve made this year.

You may have noticed: we make a lot.

Vanessa Abenojar and Joseph Varnadore graphic

I lied. about it?

was

an I didn’t forget. are you going to do

send

me.

MOMENTS PAGE 20 Ever written a note or letter containing exactly what you were feeling and potraying every emotion? Ever given it to the person it was about? Read about the trouble one note can cause.

okay?

Okay, I mean, what

was

as

NUm83r5MomentsPerspectives

just didn’t.

I forgot, said earlier about the presidents.

an excuse. you.

I

Time

art brazo a Buen Andre

be

Look around and blame it on classes. We’re busy with them. We don’t get enough hours in the day to write perfect papers.

It’s not like I was looking up pictures of cats for two hours.

I wasn’t dozing off in the library. I was thinking deeply. I’m honest! Abraham Lincoln?

George Washington?

Add me to the list; I would never tell you a lie!

I’m a teenager!

I need some time to mess around, follow my hobbies, and

spreads

blood flows up and down, fine enough for each little doubt

reaches a brain like feeling reaches fingertips in a numb arm. Vessels open, and

It was hard to look around the room. But it wasn’t immediate. News

hit in the gut. We could feel the light go out of our faces.

Not exactly like getting let down softly; more like getting

A little like getting told about a terminal illness.

That feeling of cold sweat on our backs.

ARROW101112

introportraitsFaces

Route of Memories

Kids come on, kids come off, but some things never change. The daily drive for a bus driver Ksenia Ivanova art

|Andrea Buenbrazo |Back Page Editor Many call her Connie. Some even call her “mom.”

Route 12 driver Connie Jourdan is usually a bright eyed, friendly bus driver.

“She’s the most nurturing sweet, funny and honest person I know,” senior Hana Feseha said. “She welcomes everyone to her home and heart. She’s a down to earth person who knows exactly what to say when things go wrong.”

Jourdan casually chatted with students around the bus, mumbling a number when a person got on but continuing to talk to two girls sitting up front. They were talking about Prom.

“I love your dress,” Jourdan said to a senior giving her a copy of her Prom picture.

“I love Chessy’s dress,” another girl added.

“Chessy was sick during Prom. She almost didn’t go.”

She waved to the driver of bus 15.

Light pink lip-gloss. Dirty blonde hair with bright light streaks. At stops, she wiped away smudged eyeliner with her fingertips and fluffed her hair.

“Oh my goodness, now you’re making me really think.”

Her eyes, locked on the road, seemed to look further.

“One of my regrets is not going to college. That’s part of why I’m a bus driver. And you need to know why, right?” She laughed. “Aw, thanks, Tia!” Tia commented on her earrings.

“I feel like I could’ve done so much more. Broadened

JOURDAN

my horizons. I just feel like I short-changed myself on my education to raise my children. I wouldn’t trade my kids for… you know what I mean?

“Now that they’re grown, I still have the opportunity to go to college.”

CHILDHOOD “My mom died when I was thirteen, and I didn’t know she was going to die,” Jourdan said. “Had I known, I would’ve cherished her more and the times we had.

“You just don’t know what you have until it’s gone. So I regret that.”

The roar of the bus’ engine filled a short pause.

“I didn’t know her illness was going to kill her. I was naïve and thought she was just always going to get better.”

The bus came to a halt and the doors opened with a familiar swish. “Bye, guys.”

What was she sick with?

“Cancer. But back in ‘85, ‘86. They just don’t know the stuff that they know now.

Bye, bye. Bye, guys. Bye.” Some students left the bus. “See you, Connie.”

“Have a good night.” Connie murmured a few numbers, a head count of who was left.

She looked up at the mirror and yelled to the back: “Can you grab that bottle, Haben?”

“What?”

“Is that your bottle?”

“No.” “Could you grab that bottle?”

“I got you.”

“Thanks, Betty. I am not a maid.” Her aggressive bus driver side emerged.

Another pause filled with bus noises.

“What I think she was trying to do was protect me

and not tell me how sick she was, and then she died, kind of suddenly. Then it spread to her lungs. It was shocking.

It happened fast. I think she was trying to make it less [painful] for me, when really, she made it worse. She didn’t mean to do that. I think she was trying to let me be a kid.”

Would you have done the same if you were in her position?

“No,” she said. “I would’ve been more open because I know how it affected me, and I’m not saying she was wrong for that. It was just her way of doing it, you know?

Everybody’s different.”

At a bus stop she looked at the reflection of the bus mirror. Blueish grey eyes.

“She went off to the hospital. I went away to summer camp and came back, and within a matter of a day or two she passed away. I went to camp. She was sick before I left.

I came home. Then she died… It was quick.” She nodded and looked back up at me.

FRIENDLY BUS DRIVER We drove a bit more. Suddenly she stopped to open the door again. “Hey, Max! How’s it going?”

“Hey Connie! How are you?”

“Good. Good to see ya. Take care, hon.’”

Jourdan is known for her kindness and ability to talk with teenagers.

“I wouldn’t want anybody being mean to my kids. I’m nice to everybody who’s good to me.”

But she’s not immune to all kids.

“Oh, yeah, the elementary kids. They get on my nerves,”Jourdan admitted. “I have an easier time with the high school and middle school. I relate better with them, but the little ones, they drive me crazy. But it’s my job.”

“You’ve got to be nice to everybody.”

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Unfortunate Ending: New Beginning |Vanessa Abenojar |Copy Editor The school day after her mother’s funeral and not long after deciding to divorce her husband, choir director Lizabeth Diaz smiles.

Diaz and her ex-husband fought a lot.

Maybe not more than any other couple, but Diaz regrets how they fought.

“I would let it go,” Diaz said. “I could have done better with standing my ground. Our arguments were never physical. He just lost his temper and that was not okay.”

They would fight over stuff like wanting Diaz to be home at 3:00 [p.m.] each day.

“Like that was going to happen,” Diaz said. “He’d be overly angry about batteries in the weed eater that didn’t work. And I’d let it go but didn’t say anything and that developed habits.”

There was a backbone in there from time to time though.

“I said stuff to him, talked down to him with my teacher voice,” Diaz said.

“You know when you have a teacher voice

and some teachers actually take that home and talk to their spouses as if they were their students?”

She understood it wasn’t necessary but found it easy to bring work habits home.

“He did a good job at catching that,” Diaz said. “He would tell me, ‘Stop, that’s your teacher voice, I’m not your student.’

So I know I messed up.”

Tony is very familiar with teachers at RHS. “Tony was a custodian here. I’ve known Ms. Diaz since she was Ms. Perkins,” Video Production teacher Susan Johnson said. “He would help me bring chairs out to the building by the tennis courts.”

That building was used for different classes. That’s how Johnson met him. When they started dating, Johnson was not surprised.

“He was into music so it made sense,” Johnson said. “Sometimes people grow apart and have differences. They grew as different people and that’s just the way it is.

I think they’ll always be friends.”

Johnson got close to Diaz from being heads of their departments. Johnson doubts that the couple will ever get back together.

DIAZ

“This taught us a lot,” Diaz said. “I learned that I’m really good at standing up for others but not for myself, and I’m learning to do that. He’s learning to be more comfortable in his own skin.”

Although they are no longer together, they still remain friends.

“He’s changed a lot. I forgive him,” Diaz said. “I have no hate for him. I think life is complicated enough. Why complicate it even more [with hatred]?”

There is mutal respect within the split couple and an understanding that the relationship wasn’t meant to have an eternal life.

“We were meant to be together for a time but not forever,” Diaz said, taking a bite of an apple.

In the end, she doesn’t blame him or herself for the divorce.

“I don’t blame anyone,” Diaz said.

“Sometimes blaming just doesn’t work.

He blames himself to a certain extent. My mom was blame oriented and I’m done with that.”

Tony sat with Diaz during her mother’s funeral. That kind of support shows the two will be friends regardless of whatever happens.

Eli De Los Santos and Ksenia Ivanova art

Father-Daughter Bond: Closer than Ever |Queneshia Lee |Portraits Staff Police officer Jeff Reynolds regrets not spending enough time with his daughter.

“I could have taken time to play tea party,” Reynolds said.

Despite this, he was determined to be there for his child.

Before becoming a father, Reynolds was your typical teenager trying to find his way through life. From school to the Coast Guard, Reynolds was just beggining his life at eighteen.

“I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do with my life,” Reynolds said.

After a year of dating his girlfriend - while still in the Coast Guard - Reynolds got married in May, 1975. He does admit he got married at the young age of twenty years old but is happy some good came of the marriage.

“When she told me she was pregnant, I was like ‘Really?’” he said.

Returning home at the age of twenty, Reynolds welcomed his first child in Nov. of 1976. The birth of Jennifer Reynolds meant a new responsibility. Knowing they had a child, he and Jennifer’s mother worked to provide a living for their child.

“A child should be with their parents at all times,” he said.

Reynolds explained that when he spent a lot of time with just the two of them, he had a lot of fun, especially when he got to tell her stories.

“You remember the good times you have with your children and try to keep that vibe,” he said.

A mother and a grandmother, Reynold’s fellow colleague Counseling Secretary Linda Pappa-Stallman knows exactly what he means.

“With your children you set the foundation. At the same time you love the memories,” Pappas-Stallman said.

REYNOLDS

Math teacher Cheryl Benjamin also understands.

“You can’t redo the past. You can only go forward,” Benjamin said. “Just call, text and email them. Continue to be an active presence in their lives.”

Fast forward to today. Reynolds is happily married to the woman he married twenty seven years ago, and all together has four children (three stepchildren from his wife) and eight grandchildren. He and Jennifer are now closer than ever.

“I love my children and grandchildren to death,” he said.

With all of his children and grandchildren in Nevada, Reynolds is considering a move.

“I may retire next summer,” Reynolds said. “My wife

and I have this big house and no one to share it with, so we are just going to move to Nevada with our kids.”

Even though his daughter is in another state, he still communicates with her.

“We talk once a week and she and the others visit when they can,” he said.

Reynolds says that out of this entire experience he has gotten two major messages.

“Spend time with your kids because you can’t buy that time back once they’re grown up and gone. Tell a person how you feel about them before it is too late.”

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LEAVING IT ALL ON THE MAT

Brittney Nguyen, Alex Kalinin and Ksenia Ivanova art

| Alex Kalinin | Moments Editor “Why would I want to talk about my regrets?” wrestling coach Keith Eager asked.

To improve on them for the future? To get stronger and better?

“What if it’s a one-time thing and you don’t get another chance?” he asked. “Then what?”

He told a story.

“I didn’t win state in high school wrestling,” he said. “I worked for it for a long time, and it didn’t happen.”

The day had begun like any other day of competition.

Eager was a little nervous and a little excited for the challenge.

EAGER

With 29 wins and three loses, the year had gone well.

The meet was at Central Washington University in Ellensburg, Wash. Weigh-in was successful, as usual. (Eager always made weight; there wasn’t a time he didn’t. He stepped on the scale and, like always, it showed 178.0 pounds or below.) Then he ate breakfast with his teammates.

“I don’t remember exactly what I had. Probably something regular like eggs and bacon. Wrestlers used to have 3 hours [between weigh-ins and matches], and now they have two. I don’t like that because I had time to go out to eat somewhere.

“For my first match, I was well-prepared. I knew I had some chances. I went up there, tried to move the guy around, setting up my shot. I tried my favorite takedown, but I got caught and pinned. I didn’t perform to perfection.”

Eager didn’t know as much as he knows now. He used

two moves regularly: the “fireman’s carry” and the “ladder drop.” And he knew that now he had to use the “back door” to place. (“Going through the back door” is a route for competitors to place despite an initial loss; Eager would have to win five matches in a row.)

“It’s hard because once you think you’re going to win, and you lose, it’s hard to wrestle your best. That’s the bad thing about aiming for first. If you lose once, you can’t get it.”

Even though he won five matches and placed third, he wasn’t happy.

“I felt bad for my coach ‘cause I wanted to do better. I wanted to win for him like I wanted to win for myself. Try again next time, right?

“Sometimes there isn’t a next time,” Eager said. “It’s like any goal: If you don’t reach it, you probably have regrets. You think you didn’t do enough, didn’t work hard enough, didn’t lift weights enough, and didn’t train enough.”

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It’s Our Relationship. We’re Getting Married

The story of how one young couple deals with others’ reactions to the big news

Queneshia Lee photo

| Queneshia Lee | Portraits Staff It all started with a simple click on the ‘start chats’ icon. After many chats and several in-person, face-to-face visits, Brock Melvin proposed to longtime girlfriend senior Olivia Fry in Niagra Falls, Canada on July 26, 2011.

“People were very judgmental when Brock and I announced we were getting married,” Fry said.

They have been together for a year and a half and engaged for nine months.

“My family loves him, especially my mom and my brothers,” Fry said.

It has not always been that way. Fry’s mom was initially skeptical about her daughter meeting people online. But after a few “no’s,” she finally allowed her daughter to go see Melvin.

“When we met in person I was like, wow, she is even nicer than what she was like online,” Melvin said.

“I feel mature,” Fry said. “Age is not a problem.”

Fry is 18 years old and Melvin is 21.

There is one thing stopping the duo from having their dream wedding. Since Melvin is from Canada, he has to receive a Visa in order to stay in the United States. This does not stop him from being with his lady.

“I go back and forth from here to

Canada just to be with Olivia,” Melvin said.

Their plan is to have a mini wedding so he can get his Visa and then have their dream wedding.

“I want our wedding to be on Laguna Beach and the colors to be blue and green,” Fry said.

Her fiancé on the other hand just wants to marry her.

“I don’t care what the wedding is like,” Melvin said. “I just want to make this happen.”

Who would have known their love of zombies and rock music would have brought them this close?

Love can hit at all ages, to anyone and everyone. For them it happened while they were young.

“We are happy, and that’s all that matters,” Melvin said.

Despite the arguments the couple gets in over simple things, such as how to pronounce the word “crayon,” they still maintain their love for each other.

“I’m not sure why people look down on us,” Melvin said. “Some old people get married at a young age as well.”

Move over Brangelina because there is a new dynamic duo coming through, and they go by the name of Brolivia.

“I lied about running out to the woods at night. I don’t regret it. The only thing i got out of it was almost poking my eye out.”

-Online Learning Teacher Kate McEowen

“I snuck out because my friends threw me a surprise birthday party.

When we came home at 7 a.m., my mom was waiting for me at the door.” -senior Perla Rodriguez

“I used the floor lamp as a microphone and broke it. My mom came home and acted like nothing happened.”-junior Katia Bufanda

“I lied to my mom about not having a boyfriend even though I had one.”

-sophomore Jhomarie Sadang

“I lied about my grades. I told them the grades didn’t get sent out yet, and that I didn’t know my Skyward password.”

-freshman Pyboon Krong

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“I used to tell my parents that I ate food that I didn’t really like, but I actually spat it into my napkin.”

- Language Arts Teacher Breanne Robirds

I told my mom I would stay in the yard and play but I left with my friend.

I came back at [around] eight p.m. and my parents had the cops looking for me.”

-senior Brianne Morris Parr

“I told my mom I was going to my best friend’s house, but i went to a kickback and she called me and I told her ‘My friend can’t talk righ now.’”junior Alea Baptiste

“I was playing with a sticky hand and hit my mom’s flowers and hid them in the soil. When my mom found out I said the flowers had died.”

-sophomore Benny Souriyadeth

“I lied about going home; so my mom would stop asking me because it’s annoying.

I just felt like not explaining myself.”

-freshman Sareena Eang

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“Taking the car and going down to Florida, which was a 12 hour drive, without telling my parents until I got back.”

-Science teacher Erick Dejulio

“I told my mom my teacher had a personal dislike for me. I’d say he’d ‘forget’ to give me homework or he’d purposely give me low scores when I was doing the work.”

-senior Adama Mcrae

“I lied to my parents to cover up someone else’s mistake for someone else’s mistake” -junior Nursalam Ibrahim

“I cursed my teacher out. The teacher called my mom and I said the teacher was the one who cursed me out.”

-sophomore Terry Merlette

“I was supposed to go to the temple, but I ended up going to play basketball and not doing my homework.”

-freshman Vu Nguyen

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WE LIED TO OUR PARENTS

“I kept my relationship with my boyfriend (husband now) away from my parents. Even when I was engaged I kept it from them.”

-Technology Resource Specialist Margo McCray

“I crashed my car and I called my parents and told them someone had reversed into me and left. The cops were already at my house when I got home.”

-senior Rufino Almejo

“When I first got my license my mom told me not to drive my friends around. I told her ‘okay’ but I lied to her.”

- junior Zack Walther

“I lied to my parents about getting suspended.

I thought maybe I could pretend to go to school. One day my mom saw me and started yelling.”

-sophomore Jaqueline Afalava

“I told my mom I didn’t have bus fare.

She gave me a dollar fifty and I went to buy some hot Cheetos instead. I was craving them!”

-freshman Afrique Johnson

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CLUB SCREW-UPS

Despite their small and sometimes catastrophic mistakes, clubs will always be there to provide a place for students to belong. Screw-ups in clubs stand out because clubs are so often a sanctuary, a place of rest, praise, action and service. Here, club leaders reflect on bad moments survived together CULINARY CLUB President Nick Mobley “In Oct., we prep baked desserts for 300 people and left them in the fridge with garlic overnight. The next day it all tasted like garlic and we had to start over from scratch the day of the event.”

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SABLAN ASB President Calvin Chan “It would probably be the Kid’s Night Out event we hosted at Renton in December. It was supposed to be our big fundraiser of the year to fund students going to leadership camp next year, but instead we went ‘in the hole.’ We were very close to breaking even but not many kids came. I think our main problem was advertising to the elementary schools. Hopefully the event becomes a big hit next year!”

SPEECH AND DEBATE President Millais Tsang “On our road trip to state at Spokane, we were supposed to pick up trophies for the tournament in the morning before we left, but we forgot and there were almost no trophies at the state debate tournament.

They figured it out, though, and someone else got the trophies.”

FRESHMAN CLASS President Rachelyn Apolonio “The biggest ‘screw up’ for the freshman class was probably fundraising. It didn’t technically go bad; we just didn’t always follow through. And I take responsibility for that because with my position, I feel responsible for taking on the role of following through.

And I apologize.”

CHOIR Secretary Kendall Davidson “It was during our contest and we were singing a song called ‘The Three Madrigals’ and during the last ‘hey-nonny-honny’ section, Ms. Diaz directed us wrong and we messed up. We still sounded amazing though, like it was the best we’ve ever sung it. We were so proud of Ms. Diaz and how amazing of a teacher she is that we made her cry when we were being judged. We were all proud of each other.”

SOPHOMORE CLASS President Carlotta Sablan “The sophomores were supposed to hold a big event to raise our class a lot of money. But we weren’t prepared and so we decided to change the date. No one was supposed to tell anybody but then one of the officers told a teacher that we moved the date before we could get it approved. So, because of a lot of miscommunitcation, we weren’t able to hold the event at all.”

SENIOR CLASS Vice President Hudson Du “One thing [the] senior class as a whole had trouble doing a good job with was partaking in any sort of fundraisers.

Throughout our four years at Renton High, I have heard a lot of 2012’ers talk big about ‘It’s time to do some work’ but with little action to follow.”

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DRAMA CLUB President Brianna Stepper “We haven’t been strict enough with consequences for missing rehearsals. Rehearsal attendance is crucial to having an amazing show and even though we’ve pulled off great shows these past three years they always can improve and one way to do that is with attendance. We have many dedicated people who stick by our side through thick and thin and show up on time. Self-discipline is really what it comes down to.”

ORCHESTRA Vice President Ana Iraheta “At the beginning of the school year, for our first concert, we were performing the song ‘Bacchnile.’ This really tested how well we work together. The first and second violins came in late. The cellos and base kept playing one measure over and over for three measures. Everyone found the rhythm again and the rest of the song went well.”

CARD CLUB President Joey Nguyen “I didn’t try to advertise [the club] despite the lack of people that were interested. Although the club was very close knit, the club could have expanded and added new people, because people can always learn to love knew things. All in all I think the moral of the story is just to put yourself out there, because not doing anything based on what you think other people will think, is not taking advantage of life.”

AND MORE...

IGNITE Mentor Mary Binongcal “I and the rest of the Ignite crew would love to spend all our time with our mentees but it’s not as easy as it was in the past. In the past we could just leave advisory anytime we wanted to go visit. But everyone was just so busy this year: the seniors with senior presentations, junior and sophomore mentors had to do their navigation 101 and the freshmen weren’t always in their advisory rooms because of the change in their culminating project. Schedules just conflicted.”

GSA President Brianne Morris-Parr “I feel like this year has just been hard in terms of membership. Last year, we had about 20 members who went every week, mostly seniors, but this year we have about five who regularly attend. I feel like if we got the word out more, like putting announcements and posters around the school, we could have had more members. This year was pretty much just survival of the club with the few members we have, trying to keep the club going.”

YEARBOOK Body Copy Editor Tyler Yorita “We didn’t have consistent layout templates made before the year began. We didn’t select the types of fonts we wanted, have a sufficient number of editors or a finite yearbook ladder or cover until after school started. The only thing we legitimately had was our theme, ‘community.’ The focal point of where all this yerd (yearbook nerd) havoc began was last year when we should’ve prepared for the next yearbook immediately after we finished the Centennial edition. The other big issue was that none of the more experienced editors, like Taylor and I, had yearbook as a class.”

KEY CLUB President Cynthia Fang “I think our main issue is that club members don’t seem as motivated to attend the weekly meetings anymore. We just need to work on our lack of communication and spirit!”

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SCREWING UP

The graph below depicts the students’ perspectives of their screw-ups, and how their apologies are received

THE MEANING

Students’ strongest emotions after they apologize

MY BAD, I DIDN’T MEAN IT

| Annie Kwan & Queenelle Gazmen | NUM83R5 staff & editor-in-cheif Apologizing requires people to do the one thing they hate the most: admitting they are wrong.

About 73% of students would accept their own apologies, maybe because they phrase their apologies in forgiving ways. In text messages, e-mails, phone calls or notes folded in origami shapes, people know that it’s hard to be on the receiving end of a broken relationship. They know when they need to give an apology so - perhaps aware of their karma people word their apologies as if they are accepting them theirselves.

Twenty-seven percent of our truthful students admitted they wouldn’t accept their own apologies.

Maybe it’s a simple “I’m sorry” with their head down, hands in their pockets, rocking on their heels and mumbling under their breath.

Maybe it’s a simple text message where “sorry” is spelled with one “r.”

But these people admit that their apologies aren’t presented or said in ways they themselves would want hear.

Although usually the one receiving the apology feels the most hurt, fourteen percent of students feel sad while apologizing. They might feel sad because they know they hurt someone else. Feeling happy isn’t acceptable because apologizing with a smile on your face isn’t natural, and comes off as fake.

Though not shown on the graph, survey respondents were asked about the last time they apologized.

A large majority apologized in May 2012, but there were also many who last apologized sometime in 2011 or even as late 2009, which is strange.

Maybe they did nothing wrong to hurt anyone? Maybe they’re antisocial and have nobody to hurt?

Maybe we just need to apologize more often. Then the number of us feeling relieved after apologizing can go up. But we shouldn’t put too much thought into the act itself. We should focus instead on repairing the relationship we broke with a stupid screw-up.

14% sad

6% ashamed

20%

insincere/sarcastic

20% relieved

40% “other” emotions

Students’ thoughts on their own apologies

27% of students wouldn’t accept their own

73%

would accept their own

Kevin Chung graphic

The Meaning offers an interpretation of the numbers you see to your left. The percentages you see are based off of surveys distributed to over 200 students during the week of May 14-18 and have been mathematically calculated. Our margin of error is 5.2 percent.

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|Deshawna Sanders |Guest Writer Way back when, not so long ago, I had this teacher—a great teacher who couldn’t plan out tests. Honestly, I don’t think he was thinking of students like me when it came to his so called “tests” and “quizzes.”

Students like me suffer from chronic-studyprocrastination.

We also want to impress our parents with a GPA higher than 3.2.

I went home and actually remembered to study for this test, the last test before second semester. I pulled an all-nighter (that lasted about two hours). I’m talkin’ going online to visit the teacher’s website and looking at old notes; I even borrowed the book the questions were from. It was an open-note test.

At school the next morning I felt great.

I got to class, sat in my assigned seat, and waited for the bell. The teacher handed out the test packets. I looked inside my backpack and my notebook wasn’t inside. I didn’t have it with me, but whatever. I had studied and pulled a major cram session so I thought nothing of it.

Everything was good. Or so I thought.

You know that moment when you take a test and you look at the questions and you think “Crap. I don’t know any of this stuff ”?

Then you look up and notice you’re the only one in the class not writing, or knowing what to look for in a textbook?

So I did something I’m sure at least half the population has done. I cheated.

I remember actually breaking the number two pencil I had and sliding off my desk onto the floor, and using that to my advantage.

I reached down to pick up my pencil and saw that the girl in front of me had her

notebook open underneath her desk. I picked up the half of the pencil I could write with and sat up. I took my test, flipped it over, and very slyly and with all the skill I could muster ripped off the last page of the packet and let it float to floor.

As casually as I could, I went under my desk with my pencil half and wrote down what I was sure were the answers to the questions on the test. One problem: I couldn’t read what she wrote. I have nothing against Asian girls (who coincidentally like writing with 0.5 lead), but seriously, come on. How was I supposed to cheat off you when your hand-writing looks like the last line on an eye examination poster?

When I finished copying what I could read off this girl’s notebook, I sat up and noticed some things. First, my method of cheating is just plain bad. Second, I looked at my teacher’s desk and he was looking at me.

You could imagine how scared I was when he looked at me with his eyes squinted in that teacher-like way. I hurried up and crumpled the paper and tossed it somewhere.

Then I noticed he wasn’t looking at me but through me, past me. I looked behind me and, low and behold, what did I see?

The answer key my teacher must have mistakenly given the student behind me.

The teacher gets up from his desk, goes over to the student, takes his test, rips it up, and puts it in the recycling.

This was my moment. I turned back around and thought, “How was I going to pull this off?” Then I remembered I had friends. Friends who knew people who deal in recycling on certain days.

When school ended I navigated through all the students going the opposite way to get to their lockers. I saw my friend and accidentally shoved him against the lockers.

“Sorry,” I said, and let him chastise me for a second before I interrupted him.

“Hey, you know how your class does that recycling thing? Well, I left a paper in my teacher’s class, and he usually puts leftovers in the recycling, and I was wondering if you could go in and get the paper for me.”

“You could just come with me. I’m starting on his floor. The girl I was supposed to do this with wasn’t here today.”

We went to my teacher’s floor and classroom first. “Crap,” I thought. “I just took a test in his class. He’ll be wondering why I’m digging through his recycling.”

I asked my friend to go in and get the bin because I had to use the bathroom.

When I heard my friends voice yell, “You still there?” I quickly exited the bathroom and looked through the bin he had to find the ripped packet. When I did, I found something even better: the answer key.

I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d celebrate my guaranteed passing grade.

When I got home, I didn’t even worry about studying. When the next day came around, we had a substitute. Could my life get any better? Fate is smiling at me, Luck is on my side, and Fortune is following me on Twitter (#TeamFollowBack). I sat at my desk and waited for the starting bell to ring.

We received our tests. Telling the substitute I like using my own scratch paper, I opened my backpack and took out the packets. Looking at the ripped packet, I faced a similar problem. The handwriting wasn’t small but felt like translating ancient hieroglyphics, in wingdings.

I copied what I could decipher. The answer key, of course, was better written.

I wrote down the answers for the first two pages and ran into a problem. The third page

on the test was different from the answer key.

We had gotten a new test.

I wasn’t exactly sure how much time I had, but I knew it was too little to erase my answers and write new ones. I tried anyway.

I felt stupid for thinking he would keep the same test.

As I erased the first page, I had an epiphany: cheating is an art, and I’m not artistically inclined. But at that moment, I didn’t care if I got caught. I was going to go down in a symphony of ripped paper, used erasers, and broken pencils. If I got caught I was going to take my “‘F”’ like a boss.

Then I realized another thing: if I got caught, all I had done would be for nothing, and it’d look really bad on my permanent record. I erased my fist answer and wrote “See back.” I flipped the packet over and wrote a letter.

The next Tuesday my teacher handed back all the tests except mine and four or five others, telling the class that anyone who didn’t get their test should stay after.

He sat on a stool in front of us and said something like: “I’ve asked you all to stay here because I fear for your grade in this class,” he said, handing back our tests. “The assessment you took counts for thirty percent of your grade, and I want you all to know I’m offering extra credit.”

He looks at me and says: “Uh, I read your note, and I want you to know I respect your honesty.”

He had read my letter. But he wasn’t finished.

“Next time don’t write it on the answer key.”

I don’t think my parents were impressed with my GPA. I didn’t bother to check. I was too scared to check how bad that “‘D”’ affected the outcome.

I screwed up, big time.

NUm83r5MomentsPerspectives |Andrea Buenbrazo |Back Page Editor I was walking home from the bus when I found out my best friend liked the same guy I did.

We were just talking about random junk that happened at school, like any other day, when we trampled on the subject of boys.

“So, do you like anyone?” I asked.

“Hmm… I like…” she paused before her lips formed a familiar two syllables.

“Nolan.”

You would think at this moment I’d feel my heart falling like an anvil to my stomach.

You’d expect me to throw a fit, protest and kick and scream and argue. You would expect this to be the moment where our friendship would break, the moment I got mad and swelled with jealousy and banished my best friend from my side.

Did I say I’m in third grade?

“Oh, I like him too,” I replied, giggling.

“Oh,” she said, “and I kind of like Alex and the other Alex…”

“What about Dylan? I kinda like him.”

“Oooh, him too.”

Our young minds didn’t know how to distinguish the lines of “liking” someone and thinking they were “cute.” But that’s okay because, hey, we were nine.

Nolan was a white boy. He looked boyish, but somehow still older than the other guys. He had short blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and long eyelashes. Instead of being ghostly pale, he had a healthy sun kissed glow and wore these swishy pants that made whooshing sounds whenever he passed by. (I loved that sound.)

He ran the fastest and was good at playing basketball and tether ball.

What more could a girl ask for?

I started liking him when another guy made fun of one of my drawings and Nolan told him making fun of me wasn’t cool and to cut it out. From then on, my eyes followed him.

I was glad my friend and I found out about our mutual like for Nolan. We were partners in crime. In a way, we shared him.

Two little girls in like with a boy. And what do little girls do when they like a boy? They call him all sorts of names and stick out their tongues at him.

And they chase after him to their hearts content.

During recess, Stacey and I would team up. We chased him around the black top, weaved through the tether ball poles, and cornered him at the slides. (Our plan didn’t work because he’d just slide down and run speedily away.) We couldn’t care less; chasing him was fun.

I remember during Cinco de Mayo, the teachers were telling us a story outside in the courtyard, and Nolan plopped down next to me and gave my nine year old self a wild case of butterflies. I thought about confessing.

I didn’t.

I decided I should write a confession letter instead.

I sat at my home desk for a couple of hours and wrote. I wrote and wrote. I wrote him a letter. I drew him a picture. I told him a bunch of unnecessary details, thinking maybe somehow, he’d care a tiny bit. It’s pretty creepy now that I think back at it, but my third grade self believed it

was a pretty awesome confession letter. I remembered telling him that my birthday was coming up.

Would he tell me he liked me too on my birthday?

I was super excited when I finished. I was sure it would impress him. I decided I’d put it in his desk the next day.

I didn’t. In all my excitement to give it to him, I forgot it. Perhaps it fell underneath my desk, or maybe I lost it under a bunch of papers. In any case, my birthday had already passed when I saw it next. I stuffed it into my backpack so that I could give it to him anyway.

I was so jittery and jumpy when I got to school. I went straight to class, making sure I got there early before Nolan. I stuck the letters into his desk and did a doubletake, checking no one saw me. Then I walked back to my desk slyly, feeling invincible. I talked to my friends like usual and glanced over at his desk.

He finally sat down and saw the letter.

Read it read it read it read it. I was trying to send him signals through my mind. (I seriously thought I had that power.) He looked slightly puzzled when he picked up the letter.

I expected his eyes to bug out when he saw the first line: “Dear Nolan, I like you.”

But his face remained unchanged. I was a little disappointed, but hey, I’m sure he’ll love the rest of the letters.

He looked…bored.

He read a little more of the paper, flipped through the other ones and stuck all of them back into his desk. I guess he’d gotten confession letters from other girls before.

I was somewhat sad afterwards but I didn’t let that get me down too much. I was cheerful again by the time I got to recess.

Stacey and I sat at the outside tables and talked, making each other laugh until Nolan walked over.

“Hey Stacey, when’s your birthday?”

She was pretty distracted. “Uh, June 1.

No wai—” “So YOU wrote this letter,” he said, pointing out the dreaded ugly letter. “It says ‘My birthday’s coming up soon.’”

I forgot I had even mentioned my birthday. I tried to keep quiet because I didn’t want to tell him myself. I didn’t want him to know I wrote that sappy letter.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, confused. “And my birthday’s actually on Jul—”’ “You wrote it,” he mocked.

“No, I didn’t!” she said.

“You wrote it, you wrote it,” he chanted.

That was when Stacey started crying.

The boy I had admired somehow didn’t seem that appealing anymore.

I got up and ripped the letter from his hand.

“I WROTE IT, OKAY?” I yelled into his face. “My birthday passed and I forgot to give it to you. She didn’t write it, I did.”

He was looking over at her, amused at her tears, when I glared at him my meanest glare until he walked away. After that day we stopped chasing Nolan around the blacktop.

I WROTE THE NOTE! OKAY?

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DIGITAL DECLARATION OF FEELINGS

The sun towers high and mighty as the melody of children’s laughter twinkles in the air – okay, no, this isn’t a fairytale. |Khali Crowl |Guest Writer

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Alex Ka

|Shelby Mensalvas |Guest Writer I really thought he’d be the love of my life. Jeez, I was foolish.

I heard his name in my group of friends every once in a while but I never talked to him and never had a class with him. Until 8th grade.

Mr. Austin was telling us about a partner project that we would be doing and as soon as he said the word partner, everyone looked around and did that “we’re partners” stare and nod at their friends. I was too late. My friends were already nodding at someone else.

Partners stood on one side of the room and people without partners stood on the other. I looked at the group of people. There was a kid who didn’t speak fluent English – that’s a nope. There was the kid who seemed misplaced in Honors; I mean, no offense, but he didn’t do anything in class – definite nope.

Then, there was him – sure, he’s cute.

“Partners?” I said with a flirty smile and giggled.

He did that smile of his and said “Sure.”

When I say “that smile of his,” I mean he gave a crooked smile full of braces.

We worked on the project for a month.

A month of sitting next to him, dropping flirtatious innuendos (which he never caught on to), talking about everything and anything except the project. After that month, I was hooked. What started as a simple crush on my partner became infatuation in full-bloom.

For whatever reason, one day I felt like taking the initiative to “ask him out.”

Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous or tongue-tied.

I came out with it and said “Will you go out with me?” He looked confused at first, I assumed he was so excited he couldn’t speak.

“Sorry, but no,” he politely said.

Actually, “asking him out” was the best decision I could have made. Otherwise, he never would have found out I liked him.

We continued to talk, text, walk each other to class, etc. If it was now, I would say we were “talking.” He had told me no, but our relationship was moving beyond friendship.

Everything finally paid off. I stood by his locker, like I did every day, waiting for him to put away his binder since he had gym.

As we walked to the locker room, we laughed at how people thought we were dating because we walked each other to classes. I gave him a hug and was about to proceed to my class. I let go, but he held on, so I put my arms back around him and continued to hug him too. I was about to let go again, and he quickly said “Will you be my girlfriend?”

(Thank goodness! So much better than the dreaded “Will you go out with me?”).

I could feel myself blushing and cheesin’ like crazy. I shyly let out an “Of course” and hugged him harder, completely ignoring the AWWWWs of the people who overheard the whole thing.

For the next six months, we were freakin’ cute together. We made fun of each other and joked around, took cute/ugly pictures together, kept each other warm when it was cold outside during lunch. We told each other corny things that would have made people throw up from the overflowing adorable-ness. Cloud nine.

Or so I thought. Summer Break came and he went on vacation for two weeks.

When he got back, I was busy volunteering at a hospital, so hanging out was nearly impossible. He had church events to go to, too. I didn’t have signal at the hospital and he couldn’t text at church.

Late one night he texted me saying we should “take a break.” I re-read the text at least 50 times before coming to the realization that my reading skills were fine.

I texted back. All I had to say was “If that’s what’s gonna make you happy, then I guess it’s fine.” He told me he loved me. And then it was over: a two-text conversation that bitterly ended us.

I didn’t so much as ask him where this was coming from. I didn’t give him reasons to stay. I didn’t plead forgiveness for whatever it was I did. I didn’t tell him the rut we were in was only temporary. I just let him go, knowing I would die a little inside whenever something reminded me of him. I replayed

the short conversation, thinking of different things I could or should have said.

And even though I felt fine by the time school started again in the fall, I hoped we wouldn’t share classes.

But his presence was inescapable. We shared gym and science, the two classes that require working in groups.

All my feelings came flooding back, and while he was good at acting like there had never been anything between us, I wasn’t.

I snuck long glances at him – gazes even – hoping in the back of my mind to catch him looking at me too.

My mind couldn’t help but bring forth memory after memory whenever I saw him, which unfortunately for me was often: movies, parties, conversations. His smile…

Oh Lord, his smile. The slightest glimpse of his smile made me melt.

It made me happy to see him happy.

But it also killed me that I wasn’t the reason for his happiness anymore.

I was planning to ask him to be my Valentine and to give “us” a second chance.

His sports schedule got in the way whenever I wanted to ask him, though, so I took it as some sign that maybe we weren’t meant to be. I went through my pictures on my phone, analyzing every detail: his arm around my waist, his chin on my shoulder because he said my scent was like a drug, the faintest corner of his smile.

I logged onto Facebook. Then: create new message, input name in the ‘to’ section, type out long, sappy message. Most of it is a blur to me now, thank goodness. I remember how it ended, asking him for a second chance.

How dumb was I? He replied back with a simple, sharp “No.” After that, all I could think was “Facebook? Really, Shelby? Who in their right mind pours their heart out to someone on Facebook?” What should have been a romantic gesture and declaration of feelings, turned into a pitiful, virtual message of unrequited, so-called “love.”

My bad.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was a nice sunny day. And a curly-haired kid who stood maybe three feet above the surface of the earth wore his school uniform on the playground blacktop.

A defiant little child is what I was known to be, and I kept that reputation very well.

I have what doctors call ADHD, and when I was little I would jump chair to chair in my classroom. Once I wrapped myself in tape like a mummy. And I would occasionally make animal sounds at the teacher and pretend like I didn’t know who did it. I was the class clown. Soon it would be nap time and I would catch my ZZZs. I remember waking up to the glare of the sun through the window. Time for lunch and recess on the concrete court. There was a shed kids could hide behind and completely disappear! And it was my lucky day; no one watched as I went back there.

As only a four year-old would do, I dropped my pants to the ground, lifted my shirt, stuck my finger into my belly button and let out a yellow river.

My teacher peeked around the corner and was the first witness to my little makeshift men’s room. He told me to cover myself and escorted me to a chair inside another teacher’s room while everyone went to the gym to play on the scooters.

“What were you thinking?!” my teacher asked.

“I- I- I don’t really know,” I replied with a crack in my voice.

“Well, do you have anything going on at home you’d like to talk about?”

“No!” “We’re going to call your mother.”

Ring. Ring. He didn’t know my mother was in prison. He put the phone on speaker. Ring.

“Hello?” my sister asked.

“I am Khali Crowl’s teacher and I wanted to let you know the trouble he has caused today.”

“Oh god, what?”

“Well, it’s not the usual.”

“I’ll be there,” my sister said. My heart dropped.

“Dude! Dude! Come on! Why did you have to do that?” I screamed, anticipating the beating I’d receive at home, and sobbing.

“My name is not dude.”

Later I got picked up and went home. That night I had a nightmare involving sheds and Marvel underwear and realized I never should have wrapped myself in tape like a mummy way back when. Some scenarios are awkward, and your teacher will have to get you out of them.

MomentsPerspectivesBlunders

RELATIONSHIP SWINGS FROM HIGH TO LOW

|Naje Bryant |Play Hard Editor

SO IT STARTS It all started in November the night before I moved from the Creston Point Apartments. My back porch had a beautiful view of Mount Rainer, and it was Friday Late Night for the teens. I had known her for awhile but until that night I hadn’t looked in her lemon-ginger eyes and realized how beautiful they were.

After that I spent three months crushing on her from afar and dropping hints in a “you-really-can’t-tell-but-youmight-tell” kind of way, texting her more often and actually listening to her.

Besides her eyes, everything about her is perfect: her smile, her face, the way her eyebrows scowl when she’s mad. She is so down-to-earth and honest.

Then February came and she started flirting with me. She would hug me a lot and laugh at my jokes. I played it cool like it didn’t faze me, but it did. So I started flirting back and on Feb. 17 my dreams finally came true: she asked me out. That whole week we were texting and talking, During fifth period she texted me and asked me how I would feel if we were to date, and I said I’d like to.

It wasn’t until the end of sixth period she actually asked.

Right after I got home the first thing I did was write two pages in my dark brown wood-looking journal.

About my feelings.

I am not usually the type to be in a committed relationship, but there was something about her that made me think, “I can’t ruin this. I just can’t.” So I did things I would never do for any other girl. At the mall I saw this awesome lion hat that made me think of her, so I got it and gave it to her that Monday.

Then, all of a sudden, it ended.

BRYANT

SO IT ENDS The day still replays in my mind like it happened yesterday. It was a Wednesday. I went to Creston Point to hang out with my (then) girlfriend and our friends. She

seemed so happy for the first hour. Then she got quiet. She wasn’t laughing, talking or smiling. I told jokes to no avail.

By the time we got to be alone we had walked to the apartments next door, Sunset View, and were sitting at the playground. She was crying but not telling me what was going on. Eventually, she said, “This isn’t going to work out. We’re moving too fast.” The only word I could scramble out of my mouth was “No! We can slow down!”

We talked for another hour.

I stopped fighting it eventually and said we could be friends, but behind the scenes I was thinking of every way to try to get her back. Best idea: I could surprise her with a cute heart-shaped pillow my sister made.

SO I SCREWED UP I called it “Operation-Get-Her-Back” because I planned on getting her back that day. The plan was simple: flirt with her, try to get her alone so we could talk, show her we belonged together, and tell her that I missed her bad.

I thought it would work because we had the whole day together on a choir field trip.

The truth: Operation-Get-HerBack didn’t go so well. I flirted a bit with girls from other choirs. I made conversation and may have picked up a few phone numbers.

But that’s the way I am with practically everyone.

By lunch I had retreated from my plan.

Understandably, she stopped talking to me shortly after the Choral Festival.

But I wish she would have said something. I’m a Clarification and Confirmation kind of girl. I know I did wrong, but she could have talked to me about it.

I’m guessing she still has feelings, but that’s only a guess because she won’t tell me what I did.

I asked her over and over again what I did, but all I got was silence or a “don’t talk to me” or a “bye.”

I screwed up because instead of continuing to press the issue and coax it out of her I walked away sad and mad. I nearly gave up.

Nearly. Not completely.

I should have fought harder. I t r rn a should be fighting harder now. All I etu a S dy Min want is her. And her only. I screwed up by not even thinking about what I did. And for that she is mad at me. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.

SO IT SUCKS Whatever I did must have been pretty bad because she still isn’t talking to me, and while I have a clue - a pretty big clue, admittedly - I want to hear it from her. Maybe it sounds irrational, but I need more explanation.

I feel like one of those people in the beginning of “Law & Order” where the detective has absolutely no evidence for the crime she’s investigating. You never know who did the crime or why. The only difference between me and “Law & Order” is they know exactly what happened by the end. I know the verdict, but I only know one side.

Seeing her in the halls kills me. We always look in each others directions and lock eyes for about two seconds. I get to see her lemon ginger eyes. I try to smile at her but turn away either.

I just wish she would talk to me.

MY SCREW-UP FEELS LIKE A CRIME FILM WHERE I’M JUDGE, JURY AND DEFENDANT |Vanessa Abenojar |Copy Editor I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t believe I did that. I’m so stupid.Why does this always happen to me? When I screw up, it’s always the same thing. The guilty questions hit first. Why did I do that? What is wrong with me? Why does this sort of thing always happen to me?

Like I’m on trial with myself.

I’m my own judge, but I’m also the dirty verdict. I’m the lawyer for, with and

against. I’m the police and the fight-thepower citizen. I’m two people at once, fighting myself.

This is where I start to hate myself. I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did something like that. I don’t know who I am anymore. I hate myself. It’s like my eyes are looking at each other, saying, “You’re so stupid…” As if I were truly punishing myself. Why was I so stupid?

What if I never did that? What if this didn’t start out the way it did? What if no

one noticed in the first place? What if I was invisible? What if I just didn’t care?

These hideous what-ifs cut through me like a butcher’s knife: loud and merciless.

Suddenly, the absolute worst scry movie scenarios run through my head. The worst part of every movie, over and over again. That part where everyone in the theater screams and heartbeats sound like rainstorms or drums.

Replay. Replay. Replay.

And it happens all over again.

Back to the beginning.

After a while, the stabbing negativity calms down. Just don’t do it again. Just tell them you’re sorry. Change your habits so it doesn’t happen again. Make up for it and let it go.

When you realize there’s nothing more you can do, you start to put it behind you.

You start to leave it in the past where it’s supposed to be. Lesson learned.

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THE HEAT MISSING BOY IN THE BALL PARK

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| Annie Kwan | NUM83R5 Staff I’ll admit I’m not an active Facebook user. I log on but never post anything. Heck, I’m pretty sure half of my friends think I’m a bot or something. But that doesn’t make me a Facebook lurker, right?

I can’t be in the same category as the creepy stalkers who read every post but almost never comment or post anything. Stalkers who bring up topics from Facebook. Not just about what you had for dinner yesterday. About what you had for dinner two years ago.

Maybe I do look at statuses and pictures from years ago, pictures you don’t even remember taking. But I don’t bring up Facebook topics in real life.

That’s just plain creepy.

Now, I’m very careful never to “like” anything for the fear of accidently liking something from a couple of years back…that was on your crush’s wall.

In middle school, I was a “ghost.” Teachers forgot to mark me on the attendance sheet. I hung out in the nerd graveyard, the school library. So when one of the popular class clowns actually tried to have a conversation with me when he was placed next to me in class, I was suddenly visible.

His other popular friends flocked around our desk. I drew in my

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notepad and eventually said - in my awkwardly high voice - the clever phrase I’ve always used to impress others.

“Huh?” I fell hard. How could I not? Someone who shows up out of nowhere and makes me actually noticeable. That’s like something out of a shoujo manga.

Imagine my face when I saw the little friend request I got from him that night on Facebook, a site I had mostly been using to follow stupid online singers and pages about Japanese pop culture. Being new to Facebook, the “like” button was my best friend. I liked anything that perked even a little of my short attention span.

But I promised myself that when I look at his wall I would not click anything and just scroll.

But a second later, I liked his witty status. Which now that I think about it, was just a really stupid post but it still managed to make me laugh hard enough to forget I had scrolled back to posts and pictures from a year or possibly years ago.

At the click, I wanted to cry and beat myself for being so stupid. I had been a geeky creeper. Now I was a creepy stalker.

Everyone who talked to me would stop talking to me; they wouldn’t be able to let me off unless they made fun of me over and over again until the joke was tired and overused. I would be the topic of conversation.

But for some reason I felt invisible again.

MY BREAK DANCING SCREW-UP TORE MY KNEECAP AND HEART |Tristan Cawagas |Perspectives Editor Just when things were looking up, I fell back to earth, my eyes fixed on my misplaced knee cap. All of my thoughts and happiness shattered as I hit the floor The start of sophomore year: I was walking with my friend out of the lunchroom and we heard beats coming from the floor below, louder and louder with every step.

We went down the stairs and saw people break dancing in the hallway. Beside them my sister and her friends ate their lunches.

“Hi T.J,” my sister and her friends said.

“Hi guys,” I replied with a smile.

“What do you want?” my sister asked.

CAWAGAS

“What, I can’t sit with my lovely sister?”

I asked.

She said nothing. I knew she was putting on a show by saying that, so my friend and I sat down anyway and started chatting. While we talked, I focused on the movements of the b-boys: every step, every beat, every hand motion.

Lunch ended. I couldn’t help thinking the dancing was pretty cool. The next day I managed to catch the b-boys before they went to their usual place to practice.

“I saw you guys break dancing the other day and I was hoping you could teach me.”

“Sure, follow us to the ground floor,” one of the b-boys said.

They taught me the basics: top rocks, slide step, side step, and how to go with the beat. I was thinking “Wow, this is awesome.”

I practiced diligently until the end of lunch.

“Why don’t you join our Break Club after school?” my b-boy acquaintance asked.

“Definitely,” I said without hesitation.

I joined Break Club and started my

amateur career in the hallway outside the club’s room, practicing drills. We ended one day’s session with a small competition: whoever could hold a freeze the longest. My face turned red and I shook uncontrollably. I was the first to go, but I didn’t go alone. I fell on other people.

“Hahaha… Dominos,” I laughed.

At home after practice, I decided to show off to my two cousins, Shally and Paula who were visiting. I’d been practicing my handstands for a while by then, so I was pretty good at keeping my balance. I lifted my feet off the ground. But in a split second my left arm collapsed and I fell forward.

I turned upright and saw my knee cap disjointed from my leg. It was as if someone shifted it far to the left.

I cursed with pain and agony.

“Oh my god,” Shally said.

I was in a cast and crutches for three weeks. I wasn’t showing off anymore.

|Rafael Agas |Play Hard Staff Five years ago, I still lived in the bright green house on the corner of 78th Ave. I remember one weekend I went through my usual weekend routine: wake up, brush my teeth, eat breakfast and do whatever I felt like doing that day. I decided to play with my little brother in the front yard. We played with twigs, brooms, hockey sticks, basketballs, you name it.

We went from fighting dragons to swinging hockey sticks at each other.

We played for hours. We ran around the yard until my mom left for work. My brother went in, but I stayed out.

A couple of acquaintances in cargo shorts passed by with an aluminum baseball bat. The one wearing a beater had an official Major League Baseball ball in hand and asked me to join him and his friend in a game of baseball at a park not too far away. The ten year old in me quickly agreed.

I heard my mother’s voice inside my head: “NEVER go with strangers.” For some weird reason, ten year old me decided to ignore that little voice in my head.

I was gone for hours, and my brother overreacted. This made my grandma, grandpa and ultimately, my mom panic. My grandmother scoured the streets when she got home from work.

Little me was obliviously batting and catching baseballs in the nearby park.

My grandmother found me walking home at about seven at night. She pulled up to the curb in our beige Chevrolet Windstar and glared. The ride home was silent. The feint hum of the engine filled the interior of the van for about ten minutes until finally she told me I scared everybody. They were about to call the police. She went on and on about what I did wrong. All I did was sit in the back, my tears falling.

I waited for my mom to get back home. I sat in my room waiting for the worst. After a four hour wait, the door finally swung open. She looked at me with her teary eyes. She just stared at me with the “you betrayed me” expression.

Then she asked me “Why?” Everything after is a blur. I do know one thing: Every time I’m going to make a decision, that memory plays itself back in my head to remind me that if I choose wrong, another piece of my mom’s trust will break off.

Each month, The Heat showcases the opinions and thoughts of a reporter willing to tell her personal truth. Or make your lower lip tremble. Enough reality to inspire action in you, our reader.

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Remember our Literary Magazine CD? It only had six songs on it when it was supposed to have 10 or 12. Who pays $500 to get a mini CD made?

We do. (Managing Editor Joseph Varnadore, specifically.)

Anger: It happens to the best of us. We’re human, so mistakes are inevitable. This being the year’s last issue of ARROW, we’d like to take time to point out blunders and apologize.

Slip-ups aren’t anything to be ashamed of, and sometimes it helps to make a list.

AMANDA DYER: I wish I had known more about photography while working on the 98118 Special Edition so I could take a better picture of the lion on the back page.

It is too dark, and because I used flash it seems a bit light in the bottom left corner.

On that same page I also regret not saying what restaurant it was that the lion statues were standing in front of.

MARISOL MORA: My biggest mistake is over procrastinating on my ARROW work because, except for Faces, I never turned in any ARROW work. I felt like I was letting people think I didn’t care or I was just a lazy person.

VYVY NGUYEN: On my page [“Faces,” Issue 2] I should have paid more attention to people’s body parts and not cut out their hands. At first I didn’t think it’d KSENIA IVANOVA: In my Portraits be that big of a deal until I saw the printed article [“Deep Meditating,” Issue 1], I should version of it. I slaughtered my fellow have interviewed people who haven’t been in students’ body parts because I thought it ARROW as the outside sources. wasn’t noticeable.

In Abigail Cetino’s Portraits article [“All the Names of My Future Children,” Issue 2], KATIE REYNOLDS: I never took the I should have made the art ahead of time to initiative in finding out the name of the girl fit together better and add a background.

I wrote about [“Volleyball,” Issue 1].

For the Our Town photo essay [“Our BRITTNEY NGUYEN: The cover for Town, Our Play,” Issue 3] the photo credit [Issue 1] was completely messed up. You lists only Matthew Milton, when some of could see a box on Hamilton and Anthony the pictures were taken by Abigail Cetino and it made their skin color completely as well. different. I should’ve doubled-checked it FARID AHMACH: I made the ad before sending it off. for the PTSA [Issue 3, page 4] for the Also, the Photoshop was really bad, and wrong phone number. I had to make a we cut off Anthony’s finger. new version of it because it had the cell It’s obvious the senior girl in the right and house number for an ARROW staff hand corner had her fist cut out because it member’s mother. didn’t blend in with the background.

ANDREA BUENBRAZO: Jordan Bowens is NOT Japanese. I didn’t check over what was being edited in my article for the bathrooms [“Four Countries. Four Restrooms,” Issue 1].

I didn’t get a lot of pictures on Steve Sholdra [“Swims for Us, Studies at Home,” Issue 3]. Now he’s all chopped up weirdly in his article.

TRISTAN CAWAGAS: Kevin Chung’s mug shot [“My dirty, grimy and distressed leather SB Janoski’s are ready to rock-nroll,” Issue 6] had gray in it and I forgot to clean it up.

I didn’t crop Naje Bryant [“Heel Hatin’,” Issue 6] from the chest to the head, making her look as if she was standing far from the picture.

MINDY SAETEURN: I screwed up on the literary magazine layout [Issue 5, page 11] because I couldn’t get that owl off the page and it really annoyed me. It didn’t really fit the whole page and I didn’t like it there. No matter where I put the owl on the page it looked like the car ran it over or was going to hit it.

ABIGAIL CETINO: I felt like such a noob with the pictures I took [“Know More,” Issue 3]. I didn’t know much about photography so my pictures were boring.

On top of that, they were blurry! It was supposed to be a photo essay, but since I failed, that couldn’t happen.

KEVIN CHUNG: I noticed that on the NUM83R5 page [Issue 2] I screwed up big-time with the faces on the totem poles not being straight. Also, the text boxes and layout were novice at best.

On the NUM83R5 page [Issue 3], we screwed up by having the icons on a low resolution. We also showed two sets of data twice.

ELI DE LOS SANTOS: Being the QUENESHIA LEE: In my article ANNIE KWAN: For the 98118 issue, photo editor I should have made sure that [“Spoken in Solitary,” Issue 1] I didn’t put Eli and I both wrote about Wabi sushi and every single picture on every single page words in Ranaizah’s bubble. Instead, I left it we had to squish them together at the end. in every single issue had been gray scaled, blank like Roedah’s so it looked exactly like Neither of us wrote about Tutta Bella, an cropped and placed right. I am ashamed the picture below it.

Italian restaurant that was also good [“The of calling myself or being referred to as Rainier Beach Feast,” Issue 4]. the “photo editor” because I didn’t do my ALYSSA ANTONIO: The mug shot job right this year. I feel like I slacked too QUEENELLE GAZMEN: Since Issue 3, of Mr. Winmill on Play Hard [“Teacher, much and didn’t dedicate enough time to I have been forgetting to check a specific step Coach, Father,” Issue 2] is so dark. He my position. looks kind of creepy. in the exporting process. This made all the The Biology book on Play Hard images pixelized. I didn’t checked the pdf ALEX KALININ: I drew the pictures files to see that mistake. I let that mistake go [“Teacher, Coach, Father,” Issue 2] too late for our shoes issue. I was playing should’ve fully been on the page instead of on too long. around, and I didn’t get my work done. being cut off.

VANESSA ABENOJAR: I am a bad journalist because I used three students from the ARROW staff to finish my layout [“The Nguyen Project,” Issue 2], which is against the law. I also matched a name wrong to the pictures. That was so bad. Also, I didn’t check in with the people I interviewed. Two of the Nguyens said what I put in there was too personal.

TONY NGUYEN: The date was wrong when I talked about the fire [“Buddhist Boy, Catholic Girl Visit Enormous Vietnamese Temple,” Issue 5]. It was supposed to be around six or seven years ago because it happened when I was in the third grade.

RAFAEL AGAS: I gave the camera to someone not in ARROW. Not the camera itself but the bag with the lens in it. We’re not supposed to give equipment to people outside of ARROW. DAUVEE KEITH: It wasn’t Calvin on the cover [Issue 1] It was Hudson.